“Much obliged to you, sir,” said the woman, not to be placated by this politeness; “but I can’t stop. I come on business. I suppose you know what it is.”
“I suppose it is the rent,” said Mr. Talbot, uneasily.
“Yes, it is the rent,” said Mrs. Flanders. “I hope you are ready to pay it.”
“How can you expect it, Mrs. Flanders? You know how long I have been sick and unable to earn anything.”
“That is not my fault, Mr. Talbot,” said the woman, sharply. “I’m a widow woman, and have to look out for myself. When I let you this room, I told you you must pay me prompt, for I had to pay prompt. Have you forgot that?”
“No, I have not forgotten it, and I am very sorry that circumstances have been so against me. Wait patiently, and I will pay you yet.”
“Wait patiently!” repeated the woman, angrily. “Haven’t I been waiting patiently for a month? To-morrow I have to pay my rent, and I must be paid what you owe me.”
“We have but a few cents in the house,” said Mr. Talbot. “How much have you got, Emma?”
“Four cents, papa.”
“Give them to Mrs. Flanders; it is all we have.”