“Note of hand.”
“Stuff! What’s the use of his note of hand? Has he nothing else?”
“No,” said Mr Chynoweth. “He says you hold every thing he has.”
“Humph! Yes, suppose I do.”
“Without you’d consider half-a-dozen children good security?”
“Chynoweth, I hate joking over business-matters.”
“Not joking,” said Mr Chynoweth, stolidly. “That’s what he said.”
“Rubbish! Can’t he get some one else to lend his name?”
“Said he had asked every one he could, and it was no use.”
“Confound the fellow! Tut-tut-tut! What’s to be done, Chynoweth?”