“I’m sure you do; but as I knew you couldn’t do it, I thought it would be a relief to you if I did it for you.”
Could he be in earnest? He talked as if I ought to be grateful to him instead of in a rage, as I was. Certainly it was a queer position to be in—storming at a fellow who has just saved you from debt, perhaps disgrace, possibly ruin, I couldn’t make out what to think of it.
“I daresay you thought you were doing me a good turn,” I said as civilly as I could, “but as it happens I wish you had let the thing alone.”
He sighed forgivingly and went to his desk.
The moment Jack and I got outside at dinner-time I unburdened my woes to him.
He was in as great if not a greater commotion than I was.
“What does he mean by it?” he exclaimed. “Fred, you must pay him back at once, whatever it costs you!”
“All very well,” said I, “but you know I’ve nothing.”
“Can’t you pawn anything? can’t you get a job of some sort to do? anything to pay him off. I shall be miserable as long as you owe him a farthing!”
He spoke with a vehemence that quite astonished me.—“You don’t mean to say you’re going to let yourself stop in his debt?” he exclaimed, when I did not answer.