“I’m going up to Parker’s for a lunch now. If you will call there in half an hour, I will pay you the bill and the interest,” I continued, glancing at the clock in the bank.
“If you mean so, I’ll be there.”
“Don’t insult me, Mr. Shaytop.”
“I’ll be there, and if you are not there, I’ll take the next best step.”
He turned on his heel, and left me. It was painfully impressed upon my mind that I must pay that bill, and thus diminish the resources for furnishing the house. But I was something of a philosopher, and I argued that paying this demand would not increase the sum total of my indebtedness; it would only transfer it to the account of the furniture. This thought suggested a new train of ideas. My tailor was bothering me about a little bill I owed him; Uncle Halliard would be asking me again if I did not owe him three hundred dollars; and Tom Flynn would hint that he was short. Why could I not improve my credit by paying off all these debts, and “running my face” for the furniture? It was worthy of consideration as a piece of financial policy.
I went to Parker’s, and ordered “a little lunch” which cost me a dollar and a half. Before I had finished it, Shaytop made his appearance. I never saw a fellow look more doubtful than he did. He evidently believed that he had come on a fool’s errand. Since I could not well avoid paying the bill, I was to have the pleasure of dissolving this illusion in his mind.
“Sit down, Mr. Shaytop,” I began politely, pointing to the chair opposite my own at the table.
“I haven’t much time to spare,” he replied, glancing at the viands before me, perhaps with the ill-natured reflection that this was the way the money went which ought to be used in paying his bill.
“Won’t you have something to eat, Mr. Shaytop; or something to drink, if you please?”
“No, I thank you; I’ve been to dinner, and I never drink anything.”