—"Yes, very good, indeed," said Livingstone condescendingly, pausing to dwell for a second on the sight of the line of pallid figures which suddenly flashed before his eyes. "And I have got everything straight for you this year; and I want you to come up to my house this evening and go over the books with me quietly, so that I can show you—"
"This evening?" The clerk's countenance fell and the words were as near an exclamation as he ever indulged in.
"Yes—, this evening. I shall be at home this evening and to-morrow evening—Why not this evening?" demanded Livingstone almost sharply.
"Why, only—that it's—. However,—" The speaker broke off. "I'll be there, sir. About eight-thirty, I suppose?"
"Yes," said Livingstone, curtly.
He was miffed, offended, aggrieved. He had intended to do a kind thing by this man, and he had met with a rebuff.
"I expect to pay you," he said, coldly.
The next second he knew he had made an error. A shocked expression came involuntarily over the other's face.
"Oh! it was not that!—It was—" He paused, reflected half a second. "I'll be there," he added, and, turning quickly, withdrew, leaving Livingstone feeling very blank and then, somewhat angry. He was angry with himself for making such a blunder, and then angrier with the clerk for leading him into it.
"That is the way with such people!" he reflected. "What is the use of being considerate and generous? No one appreciates it!"