"Yes'm—I mean, yes'r" replied the quivering Simon.
"Well, then, you can go. I'm going myself. You blow out the lights and lock the room. And mind and be here early to-morrow morning. Nothing like beginning the New Year well. Good night."
"Mr. Latitat, sir!" cried Quillpen, with desperate resolution, as he saw the great man about to disappear—"please, sir—could you let me have a little money to-night?"
"Why! what do you want of money?" retorted the lawyer. "O! I 'spose you have a host of unpaid bills."
"No, sir; no, sir; that's not it," Simon hastened to say. "I hain't got narry bill standing. I pay as I go. Cash takes the lot!"
"None of your coarse, vulgar slang to me!" said Latitat. "Reserve it for your loose companions. If not to pay bills, what for?"
"Please, sir,—we, that is Mrs. Q. and myself, want to put something in the children's stockings, sir."
"Then put the children's legs in 'em!" said the lawyer with a grin. "I make no payments to be used for any such ridiculous purposes. Good night. Yet stay—take this letter—there's money in it—a large amount—put it in the post-office with your own hands as you go home."
"And you can't let me have a trifle?" gasped Simon.
"Not a cent!" snarled the lawyer; and he slammed the door behind him, and went heavily down the stairs.