A growl, bisected by a sob, was the only reply.
"By-by, poppy," said Chiffield, with a flippant wave of the hand.
Mr. Whedell cast at him a look of scorn, to which justice could be done in no known language; and Chiffield, with a bow of exceeding grace, left father and child to their reflections.
CHAPTER VI.
MR. WHEDEEL'S CREDITORS IN CONVENTION ASSEMBLED.
These reflections, which were neither profitable nor interesting to the parties immediately concerned, were interrupted by a peculiarly rigorous pull at the door bell. Pulls of a startling description had come so often, the previous ten minutes, that Mr. Whedell had quite ceased to notice them. But this long and strong pull caused him to start, and remark, "It must be Quigg."
It was Quigg, who had come to make his last appeal. He was by far the heaviest creditor. The unfortunate servant girl, acting under her general instructions, would fain have shown him into the parlor, where his fellow sufferers, having overrun the library and dining room, were already in strong force; but Quigg, having immense interests at stake, would stand no such nonsense.
"Where is Whedell?" said he. "I can't dance attendance on him all day."
It was always remarked that Quigg put off his slow and stately method of speech, when dealing with obstinate debtors.