"I thought I would come up and see you this morning, Mr. Checkynshaw," stammered the poor woman; and poverty had so subdued her, and so broken her spirit, that she hardly knew how to introduce the subject upon her mind.
"If you come to ask me to take Fitz back, it will do no good. You permit the puppy to insult me," replied the banker, in the most forbidding tones.
"I don't permit him to insult you. I did what I could to make him speak properly to you," replied Mrs. Wittleworth, meekly.
"It's all the same; it was bad bringing up. I can't have him in my office again," added Mr. Checkynshaw, though at that moment, for some reason best known to himself, he would have been very glad to forgive the young man's insolence, and take him back at double salary. "That boy has outraged my good-nature. When I saw how hard the times were with you, I was willing to give him double wages; but the ingrate only insulted me for it."
"He is very wilful; I wish he was not so headstrong."
"I can't take him back now; at least not till he has apologized for his impudence, and promised better things for the future," continued the banker, shaking his head, as though his mind was firmly made up for the issue.
"I did not come to ask you to take him back," added Mrs. Wittleworth.
"O, you didn't!"
"No, sir; he is not yet willing to come."
"What did you come for—to beg?"