“I am very sorry to hear this, Sam; but, surely the man who seduced your daughter does not deserve to be called religious.”
“Disn't he, feth? why, Lord bless you, sure it was all done in a religious way—they sang psalms together, prayed together, read the Bible together, and now the truth is, that the consequence will be speaking for itself some of these days.”
Here another fiery look was darted at Solomon, who appeared deeply engaged among leases, papers, and such other documents as were before him.
“It's a bad business certainly, Sam—but now about the rent?”
“Hut! de'il a penny o' rent I have—hell take the tester; and yet, for all that, all pay you afore a laive the room—what do you think of that?”
“I don't understand it, Sam.”
“Now,” said Sam, going over to Solomon, “you'll pay Mr. M'Clutchy the sum of twelve pounds, fourteen, and three pence for me, Mr. M'Slime—if you please, sir.”
There was a peremptory tone in his words, which, joined to the glittering look he riveted on Solomon, actually fascinated that worthy gentleman.
“My friend,” replied Solomon, taking out his pocket-book, and seeming to look for a memorandum, “you have made a slight mistake against yourself; the sum, I find, is twelve pounds, seventeen, and three pence, so that you have made a slight mistake of three shillings, as I said, against yourself.”
“Do you pay the half year's rent, which is the sum, I say, and you may give the three shillings in charity, which I know you will do.”