“That won’t do!” said the man coarsely. “I insist upon the fiddle being sold. I’ll give five dollars for it, and call it square.”
“Mr. Gunn,” said the landlord, in a tone of disgust, “since you are disposed to persecute this boy, I will myself pay your bill, and trust to him to repay me when he can.”
“But, Mr. Gates—” said Philip.
“I accept!” said the agent, with alacrity.
“Receipt your bill,” said the landlord.
Mr. Gunn did so, and received a five-dollar bill in return.
“Now sir,” said the landlord coldly, “if you have no further business here, we can dispense with your company.”
“It strikes me you are rather hard on a man because he wants to be paid his honest dues!” whined Gunn, rather uncomfortably.
“We understand you, sir,” said the landlord. “We have not forgotten how you turned a poor family into the street, in the dead of winter, because they could not pay their rent.”
“Could I afford to give them house-room?” inquired Gunn.