The eyebrow was stiffly pointed as Bullion answered,—
"I do forbear. I must forbear. Stearine owes me; you indorse; you can't pay, neither of you. I sha'n't get the money. I must go without."
It was an injured tone.
"Then why do you let it go to protest?"
"Only a form, Sandford. Usage of the mercantile world. Very irregular not to do it. Sorry, but can't help it."
Mr. Sandford's patience was exhausted.
"It is my turn to-day, Bullion; I have no further resource; I am ruined. You feel strong and look upon my distress in triumph. But your turn will come. Mark my words. Within a fortnight I shall see you rushing down State Street in despair; your property will be swept away with a flood, and you will be a beggar,—as you deserve to be. Damn your stony heart!"
It was the first outburst of profanity from Mr. Sandford,—too fastidious, usually, to allow himself the use of such expletives.
"Sorry to see you excited, Sandford. Best to keep temper. Guess you and Fayerweather will raise the money. Pity Stearine hadn't wick enough in him to stand alone. Rather a poor candle, he is,—he! he! Morning!"
The gray eyes twinkled, the eyebrow whisked, and the sturdy legs bore the creditor away.