The Schnorrer's tirade was long enough to allow Grobstock to recover his dignity and his breath.
"If you really knew me, you would know that the Lord is considerably in my debt," he rejoined quietly. "When next you would discuss me, speak with the Psalms-men, not the beadle. Never have I neglected the needy. Even now, though you have been insolent and uncharitable, I am ready to befriend you if you are in want."
"If I am in want!" repeated the Schnorrer scornfully. "Is there anything I do not want?"
"You are married?"
"You correct me—wife and children are the only things I do not lack."
"No pauper does," quoth Grobstock, with a twinkle of restored humour.
"No," assented the Schnorrer sternly. "The poor man has the fear of Heaven. He obeys the Law and the Commandments. He marries while he is young—and his spouse is not cursed with barrenness. It is the rich man who transgresses the Judgment, who delays to come under the Canopy."
"Ah! well, here is a guinea—in the name of my wife," broke in Grobstock laughingly. "Or stay—since you do not brush spatterdashes—here is another."
"In the name of my wife," rejoined the Schnorrer with dignity, "I thank you."
"Thank me in your own name," said Grobstock. "I mean tell it me."