Two o’clock came, and the bank closed. With far less compunction than I had experienced on the former occasion, I took eleven hundred dollars from my drawer as I transferred the cash to the safe. I did not go through with the idle formality of depositing a memorandum in my trunk with the money. It was a loan for a few days, which Aunt Rachel would enable me to pay. I will not say that I did not tremble—I did. I did not persuade myself that the act was right, only that I intended no wrong. I called the deed simply an “irregularity.” It was not stealing, embezzlement, or any other ugly thing with a savage name. I had the money in my pocket, and I think this fact was the basis of all the arguments I used in persuading myself that I had not done a very wicked act.
As soon as I had balanced my cash I left the bank and hastened home. I need not say that Lilian was in a tempest of excitement, in spite of my consoling note. The horrible keeper sat in the dining-room, reading the morning paper, and apparently unconscious of the misery he had brought to my house. He was polite and gentlemanly, and I was magnanimous enough to treat him with consideration. I inquired into the particulars of the case, and proposed to settle the claim at once. He had no authority to settle it, and referred me to Messrs. Shiver & Sharp, attorneys, in Court Street, who had procured the writ.
Dinner was nearly ready, and I invited the keeper to dine with me. He was condescending enough to accept, and while we sat at the table I did some large talking, in which I was particularly severe upon Buckleton, and particularly complimentary to Glasswood, the latter of whom was a highly honorable man, who had been grossly wronged by the former. Buckleton had put on the attachment out of spite. Glasswood had always paid his debts fairly and squarely, but would not be imposed upon.
After dinner I rushed down to the office of Messrs. Shiver & Sharp. I was indignant and savage, but I was magnificent. I rolled out the hundred-dollar bills with a perfect looseness. I did not even dispute the costs. I paid all, to the utmost penny demanded. Then I talked about the insult, the stain upon my honor, and dilated upon kindred topics, but I fear I failed to make any strong impression upon the astute Mr. Sharp, who conducted the business. He was polite, but he was cold. He gave me a note to the keeper, which I delivered on my return to Needham Street, and which caused his immediate departure, after he had carefully examined the well-known signature of the legal firm.
“Such things are unpleasant, Lilian, but I suppose they have happened to almost all men at one time or another,” I remarked, as soon as the door had closed upon our unwelcome guest.
“I never was so frightened before in my life,” she replied with a deep sigh, indicative of the relief she felt.
“It was a miserable trick! It was too mean for any decent man to be guilty of.”
“But did you really owe this Buckleton?”
“I did really owe him about eight hundred dollars, but he told me at the time I bought the furniture to pay him whenever it was convenient. It was not convenient to pay him to-day, and he sued me. You know, my dear, that when one has money comfortably invested, drawing large interest, one does not like to disturb it, at least, just before dividends are payable.”
“It’s too bad!” exclaimed Lilian, warmly, her pretty face beaming with sympathy; and she actually believed that the indefinite pronoun I had used in my description represented myself.