Steven waved an impatient gesture. "I'm not particular about seeing him," said he—and Archie used to repeat this part of the story in his father's presence with infinite relish—"But I'd like to have his opinion, in a matter of—a matter of debt!"
The two sisters exchanged a horrified glance; they knew what Steven's errand was, now, and thought he was about to reveal the awful secret, and tarnish the name of Gwynne forever. But that was by no means Steven's intention; he was as tender of the family honour as they, but much more confident of his own knowledge of the world and diplomatic abilities. Archie, upon whose youthfully sharp wits none of this by-play was lost, sat wondering what was to come next.
"This debt—or—er—this indebtedness," said Steven elaborately, "is—er—it should be, in short, collected—that is—er—measures should be taken by which it—could be, in short, collected." He fixed a profound look on the young man, pausing while he considered in what other roundabout terms he could present the situation.
"Is the fellow that owes you responsible—solid, I mean, you know?" asked Archie, beginning to be interested. "If he's on a salary, or got a good business you might attach——"
"I—I—I'm not prepared to state," said Steven, appalled at the briskness of Archie's deductions. "I'm just supposing a case, you understand."
"Oh!" said Archie, suppressing a grin. "Well—ah—are you supposing it to be a large sum, Mr. Gwynne?"
"A debt's a debt," said Steven, with magnificent brevity; he could not resist a sidelong glance at Eleanor and Mollie, commanding their admiration.
"Yes, of course, Mr. Gwynne, but there's a difference between a debt of five dollars and one of five hundred," said Archie peaceably. "If you can come to some kind of compromise, it's generally a great deal better than going to law; you may get a little less than you're entitled to, but you save time and trouble and worry. I suppose I've heard my father say that to a hundred clients."