“Ho! ho! ho! ho!” he shouted. “The guinea is gone.”
“Gone!” I exclaimed; and I felt my knees began to shake under me. “Gone—where—how.”
“I gave it to the wife of that poor devil of a scene-shifter who broke his arm last week; he had four children, and they were starving. What could I do but give it to them? Had it been ten times as much they should have had it.”
I don’t know what reply I made, but it had the effect of producing another fit of uncontrollable laughter.
“Why do you laugh,” said I, rather angrily.
“Who the devil could help it;” he replied; “your woe-begone countenance would make a cat laugh.”
“Well,” said I, “we are in a pretty dilemma here. We owe our landlady fifteen shillings.”
“For which she will lay an embargo on our little effects—three black wigs and a low-comedy pair of breeches—this must be prevented.”
“But how?” I inquired.
“How? never mind; but order dinner directly.”