“Don’t mention it,” said Wallop. “When I want it I’ll drop on you for it, my boy.”
“I’ll try to pay it off as soon as ever I can,” I said.
I disliked Wallop, as I have said, and the thought that I owed him money was not at all pleasant to me.
My creditor laughed.
“There’s plenty more will be glad to hear you’re better,” said he. “There’s Shoddy I met the other week in a regular blue funk because he thought you’d bolted. He wanted to come down and see the governors here about his little bill, but I managed to pacify him. But he says if you don’t give him a call soon he’ll wake you up.”
“I’ll go and see him at once,” I said, feeling very uncomfortable.
“Then there’s the Twins. It seems you’re on their books for a matter of a sov. or so advanced you at odd times. They’ve been most affectionate in their inquiries about you.”
It wasn’t pleasant to be reminded thus on my first morning back at work of the burden of debt which still pressed on me from the old, and I humbly hoped bygone, days of my extravagance. Not even a broken arm or a dangerous fever will wipe off old scores.
Wallop rather enjoyed going through the catalogue of my debts.
“Then there’s Tucker, the pastrycook, wants half-a-sov. at the very least, and Weeden, the tobacconist, a florin for mild cigarettes, and—”