"Thou art a viper," said I.
"If I am," said Jonathan in a huff, "I won't stay to be trodden on."
And with that, the heartless creature, tossing up his head like an emperor, stalked out of the house, leaving me petrified by the enormity of his baseness.
[CHAPTER XII.]
IN WHICH THE CATASTROPHE IS CONTINUED.
I was, indeed, so shocked, so overwhelmed, by ingratitude coming from such a quarter, that it was some time before I could recover myself sufficiently to think of the steps necessary to be taken for my preservation. I remembered, however, that he, even he, my thrice unfeeling nephew, had recommended me to borrow of my friends what would be enough to retrieve my affairs from ruin. I ran from the house, not doubting that I could easily raise the sum. Fifty paces distant was my new house—that is, Jonathan's. My old friend Ebenezer, the father of the maid Ellen, was standing before it, looking up to the carpenters, who were nailing the shingles on the roof.
"Ebenezer," said I, "thee is my friend—does thee know I am on the brink of ruin?"
"Very sorry," said Ebenezer—"all the town-talk; looked for nothing better. Perhaps thee will sell the house—pho! I forgot; thee gave it to Jonathan."