Alexander perceived his uneasiness and rang the hand bell that stood upon the table.
Everage took out his purse.
“Put that up, if you please, Everage. I invited you here; and you are my guest,” said Alexander, taking out his purse.
“See here, Killcrichtoun! upon one pretense or another you always contrive to do this thing. Now I am not going to stand it any longer. Unless you let me foot the bill sometimes, and unless you let me foot it now, I can never lunch with you again,” said the poor gentleman, with much dignity; then turning to the waiter who at that instant made his appearance, he added—“Let me have our bill immediately.”
The mercury vanished to execute the order.
“But, really, Everage——” began Alexander.
“But, really, Killcrichtoun,” interrupted the poor gentleman, “though this is too small a matter to dispute about, you must let me have my will.”
Alexander gave way.
The waiter came and put the bill in Everage’s hands and the usher, who had that day received his second quarter’s salary, amounting to barely fifteen pounds, paid thirty shillings for their lunch, and bestowed half a crown on the waiter who served them.
Alexander sighed and groaned in the spirit as he saw this; but he could do nothing on earth to prevent it, or to remedy it. What in the world is one to do in such a case with a sensitive, poor gentleman? He would be alive to all your ruses, and feel hurt by them and defeat them. Alexander would rather have paid ten times the amount from his own ample means than seen the usher discharge the bill from his slender stock.