“And not a bad thing perhaps if it means some people will pay what they owe.”
“I’ll do that this minute,” said Hornblower hotly. “What’s my reckoning, Mrs Mason?”
“Oh, please, please—” said Maria, interposing.
“You just shut your mouth, miss,” snapped Mrs Mason. “It’s only because of you that I’ve let this young spark run on.”
“Mother!”
” ‘I’ll pay my reckoning’ he says, like a lord. And not a shirt in his chest. His chest’d be at the pawnbroker’s too if I hadn’t nobbled it.”
“I said I’d pay my reckoning and I mean it, Mrs Mason,” said Hornblower with enormous dignity.
“Let’s see the colour of your money, then,” stipulated Mrs Mason, not in the least convinced. “Twentyseven and six.”
Hornblower brought a fistful of silver out of his trouser pocket. But there was not enough there, and he had to extract a note from his breast pocket, revealing as he did so that there were many more.
“So!” said Mrs Mason. She looked down at the money in her hand as if it were fairy gold, and opposing emotions waged war in her expression.