“Thank you, Mr Simpson,” said Richard, coldly, as he thought of his cousin and the money; “I have no reason for exchanging my tailor. Greatly obliged to you for calling.”
“No trouble, sir; no trouble—a pleasure, as one may say. I thought I’d bring all the patterns as I was coming. Then shall we settle that other little bit of business, sir, at once? Some other time, p’raps, you may be able to give me a line.”
“What other business?” said Richard, flushing a little.
“That little affair of the money, sir.”
“I have nothing to do with Mr Mark Frayne’s affairs,” said Richard, warmly.
“Oh, sir, don’t say that to a poor tradesman, sir!” said the tailor, shaking his head reproachfully, as he reopened the little handbag and drew a flat bill-case of large size from among the cards of patterns. “Mr Mark said if I would make it a bit easy, and drew at three, six, and nine, you would put your name to the paper, and there would be no more trouble.”
“My cousin had no right to say such a thing to you!” cried Richard.
“Oh, sir, don’t say that; it’s such a little amount to a gentleman! I have drawn it in three bills, a heighty and two fifties—hundred and heighty! Why, it ain’t worth thinking about twice for a gentleman like you! Ha, ha, ha! it’s like making three bites of a cherry!”
“How much?” said Richard.
“Total, hundred and eighty-three—five—six, with the stamps, sir,” said the tailor, producing three slips of blue paper.