“Pray don’t mention it,” said Mrs. Willis, accepting the bill her lodger tendered her. “If I had needed the money I should not have hesitated to ask for it. But, Mr. Jones, I am really afraid that I shall have to speak to your friend, Guy.”
The commercial traveler spread out his feet, placed his hands behind his back, and gazed fixedly at the oil-cloth on the floor, but had nothing to say.
“It isn’t the money I care for,” said the landlady, “but I can see very plainly that Guy is getting into bad habits. He is going to ruin as fast as he can, and I think it is your duty to advise him to do better.”
“I do, Mrs. Willis; indeed I do, very frequently,” replied Jones, in a sorrowful voice; “but I find that it is of no use. I have no more influence with him than I have with the wind. I am surprised to hear that he owes you,” he added, with some indignation in his tones, “but I know the reason for it. It isn’t because Guy isn’t able, or doesn’t want to pay, but simply because he is so careless. If you will take my advice you can get your money to-morrow.”
“What must I do?”
“Do as the rest of his creditors do—call upon him at the store. Suppose you come about six o’clock in the evening? You will be sure to find him in then.”
“Oh, I can’t do that,” said Mrs. Willis quickly. “I don’t want to dun Mr. Harris.”
“Of course not; you merely wish to remind him that he is in your debt, that’s all.”
“Why couldn’t I speak to him here and now?”
“You could, certainly, but it would do no good. He would promise faithfully to pay up at once, and never think of the matter again. He is just so forgetful. I really wish you could make it convenient to call on him to-morrow evening at six o’clock,” added Mr. Jones, “for by so doing you will benefit Guy as well as yourself. He will draw his quarter’s salary then, and if you can get your money out of him it will keep him from spending it for beer and billiards—a practice to which he has of late, I am sorry to say, become very much addicted.”