"Verily," said Jonathan, "I have looked over the demands, and twenty thousand dollars by nine o'clock to-morrow will make all straight. But where will thee get twenty thousand dollars?"
"Where?" said I, fairly dancing for joy. "It was but two days since that thy friend Ebenezer Wild did offer me exactly the sum of twenty thousand dollars for the new house as it stood, not knowing I had conveyed it to thee, until I told him the same, as a reason why I could not take such a handsome offer."
"Well," said Jonathan, opening his eyes, "what then?"
"Surely," said I, "if he would give twenty thousand then, he will give twenty thousand now. And so, Jonathan—"
"And so," said Jonathan, "thee wants me to sell the house, does thee? and give thee back the money? Uncle Zachariah, thee should be a little more reasonable. Thee must remember that the house is mine; and as it seems to be all I am ever to get, why, uncle, thee must excuse me, but—I have no notion of parting with it."
If Jonathan had picked up the poker and served me the turn Abel Snipe had so piteously entreated me to serve him—that is, knocked me on the head, I could not have been more shocked and horror-struck than I was by these words.
"What, Jonathan," said I, "does thee refuse to save me from ruin—me, who have been a father to thee, and given thee all that thou hast?"
"No," said Jonathan, coolly, "I am not so bad as that; but as this house is all I have, I can't think of running too much risk with it. Suppose thee borrows that twenty thousand dollars that Ebenezer Wild has so handy: he is thy friend as well as mine. Or suppose thee tries some of thy other friends. Thee has often loaned to them, and not often borrowed. Sure thee has many friends who can spare money better than I can."
"Oh, thou ungrateful young man!" said I.
"Don't go to call me hard names," said the perfidious and unfeeling youth; "for, if thee comes to that, uncle Zachariah, I can tell thee, thee is the ungrateful man—though not a young one. Haven't I been as a son to thee for eighteen long years? haven't I humoured all thy foolish old notions, even to the point of giving alms, talking about virtue and philanthropy, and so on? haven't I given up Ellen Wild to please thee? And hasn't thee, after all my pains, choused me out of the portion I had a right to expect of thee, except a poor beggarly unfinished house, only worth twenty thousand dollars? Yes, thee has, uncle Zachariah, thee can't deny it. Don't thee talk to me of ingratitude."