These reflections, and Catamount's thorough-bred canter, soon brought him to Mrs. Lushington's door. She was at home, and sufficiently well prepared for exercises of ingenuity, having been engaged, after breakfast,—though it is but fair to say, such skirmishes were of unusual occurrence,—in a passage-of-arms with Frank.
The latter was a good-natured man, with a bad temper. His wife's temper was excellent; but her enemies, and indeed her friends, said she was ill-natured. Though scarcely to be called an attached couple, these two seldom found it worth while to quarrel, and so long as the selfishness of each did not clash with the other, they jogged on quietly enough. It was only when domestic affairs threw them together more than common, that the contact elicited certain sparks, such as crackled on occasion into what observers below-stairs called a "flare-up."
To-day they happened to breakfast together. After a few "backhanders," and some rapid exchanges, in which the husband came by the worst, their conversation turned on money-matters—always a sore subject, as each considered that the other spent more than a due share of their joint income. Complaints led to recriminations, until at length, goaded by the sharpness of his wife's tongue, Mr. Lushington exclaimed: "Narrow-minded, indeed! Paltry economy! I can tell you, if I didn't keep a precious tight hand, and deny myself—well—lots of things. I say if I didn't deny myself lots of things, I should be in the Bench—that's all."
"Then you are a very bad financier," she retorted, "worse than the Chancellor of the Exchequer even. But I don't believe it. I believe you're saving money every day."
He rose from his chair in a transport of irritation, the skirts of his dressing-gown floating round him, like the rags of a whirling dervish.
"Saving money!" he repeated, in a sort of suppressed scream. "I can only tell you I had to borrow five hundred last week, and from little Sharon too. That doesn't mean getting it at three per cent.!"
"Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" said she. "No gentleman borrows money from Sharon."
"No gentleman!" he vociferated. "Upon my life, Mrs. Lushington, I wish you would try to be more temperate in your language. No Gentleman, indeed! I should like to know what you call General St. Josephs? I fancy he is rather a favourite of yours. All I can tell you is, he borrows money of Sharon. Lumps of money, at exorbitant interest."
"It's very easy to say these things," she replied. "But you can't prove them!"