"Come, come, Mr. Diddler," replied Mrs. Dibbs, "that language won't do no longer. You've been blessing little Tom twice a day ever since you got into my books, but I'm not going to take out my account in blessings. Blessings won't pay my milk-score, so I must have my money,—and this very day too, for I've got a bill to make up to-morrow."
"Have patience, my good lady, and all will be right."
"Ay, so you've said for the last month; but saying's one thing, and doing's another."
"But it ain't very good; it's very bad."
"Well, well, no matter, Mrs. D——"
"No matter! But I say it is a great matter,—a matter of ten pounds fifteen shillings, to say nothing of them oysters what you did me out on last night."
"Exactly so; and you shall have it all this very day, for it so happens that I'm going into the City to receive payment of a debt that has been owing me since November last. And this reminds me that I have not yet breakfasted; so pray send up—now don't apologise, for you could not possibly have known that I had an appointment in Fenchurch-street at ten o'clock."
"Breakfast!" exclaimed Mrs. Dibbs with a disdainful toss of her head; "no, no; not a mouthful shall you have till I get my money: I'm quite sick of your promises."
"Nay, but my dear Mrs. D——"