“I will if you’ll put up a dollar for security,” said the Idiot, extracting the coin from his pocket, “and give me a demand note at thirty days for the quarter.”
“I haven’t got a dollar,” said the Doctor.
“Well, what other collateral have you to offer?” asked the Idiot. “I won’t take buckwheat-cakes, or muffins, or your share of the sausages, mind you. They come under the head of wild-cat securities—here to-day and gone to-morrow.”
“My, but you’re a Shylock!” ejaculated Mr. Brief.
“Not a bit of it,” retorted the Idiot. “If I were Shylock I’d be willing to take a steak for security, but there’s none of the pound of flesh business about me. I simply proceed cautiously, like any modern financial institution that intends to stay in the ring more than two weeks. I’m not one of your fortnightly trust companies with an oak table, an unpaid bill for office rent, and a patent reversible disappearing president for its assets. I do business on the national-bank principle: millions for the rich, but not one cent for the man that needs the money.”
“I tell you what I’ll do,” said the Doctor. “If you’ll lend me that quarter, I won’t charge you a cent for my professional services next time you need them.”
“That’s a large offer, but I’m afraid of it,” replied the Idiot. “It partakes of the nature of a speculation. It’s dealing in futures, which is not a safe thing for a financial institution to do, I don’t care how solid it is. You don’t catch the Chemistry National Bank lending money to anybody on mere prospects, and, what is more, in my case, I’d have to get sick to win out. No, Doctor, that proposition does not appeal to me.”
“Looks hopeless, doesn’t it,” said the Doctor. “Mary, tell the boy to wait while I run up-stairs—”
“I wouldn’t do that,” said the Idiot, interrupting. “The matter can be arranged in another way. I honestly don’t like to lend money, believing with Polonius that it’s a bad thing to do. As the Governor of North Carolina said to the Governor of South Carolina, who owed him a hundred dollars, ‘It’s a long time between payments on account,’ and that sort of thing breaks up families, not to mention friendships. But I will match you for it.”
“How can I match when I haven’t anything to match with?” said the Doctor, growing a trifle irritable.