I owed Shoddy three pounds, and this summons fell on my ear like a knell.
“Better go,” said Jack.
How sick Jack must be of me, thought I, by this time. Ever since I had been back with him he had been for ever worried either with my health or my debts or my office rows. I was half tempted to ask him not to come, but I could not bring myself to be sufficiently self-denying.
“What does Mr Shoddy want me for?” I asked of the assistant as we walked along.
“I believe, sir, between ourselves, it’s about your little account, sir. How do the clothes wear, sir? Nice stuff that tweed we made them of. Could do you a very nice suit of the same now, sir, dirt cheap. Two fifteen to you, and measure the coat. We should charge three guineas to any one else.”
It occurred to me to wonder why so great exception should be made in my favour, especially as I had owed my present bill so long. However, we let the fellow rattle on at his shoppy talk, and soon arrived at Mr Shoddy’s ready-made clothes establishment.
I felt rather like a criminal being brought up before a judge than a customer before the tailor of his patronage.
“Good evening, Mr Batchelor,” said the tailor. “Take a seat, sir.”
I did so, and Jack took another.
A long pause ensued.