“I think she's a very bad one, Mr. Woolsey,” said the illustrious author, wishing to abbreviate all communications with a tailor to whom he owed forty pounds.
“Then, sir,” says Mr. Woolsey, fiercely, “I'll—I'll thank you to pay me my little bill!”
It is true there was no connection between Mrs. Walker's singing and Woolsey's little bill; that the “THEN, sir,” was perfectly illogical on Woolsey's part; but it was a very happy hit for the future fortunes of Mrs. Walker. Who knows what would have come of her debut but for that “Then, sir,” and whether a “smashing article” from the Tomahawk might not have ruined her for ever?
“Are you a relation of Mrs. Walker's?” said Mr. Bludyer, in reply to the angry tailor.
“What's that to you, whether I am or not?” replied Woolsey, fiercely. “But I'm the friend of Mrs. Walker, sir; proud am I to say so, sir; and, as the poet says, sir, 'a little learning's a dangerous thing,' sir; and I think a man who don't pay his bills may keep his tongue quiet at least, sir, and not abuse a lady, sir, whom everybody else praises, sir. You shan't humbug ME any more, sir; you shall hear from my attorney to-morrow, so mark that!”
“Hush, my dear Mr. Woolsey,” cried the literary man, “don't make a noise; come into this window: is Mrs. Walker REALLY a friend of yours?”
“I've told you so, sir.”
“Well, in that case, I shall do my utmost to serve her and, look you, Woolsey, any article you choose to send about her to the Tomahawk I promise you I'll put in.”
“WILL you, though? then we'll say nothing about the little bill.”
“You may do on that point,” answered Bludyer, haughtily, “exactly as you please. I am not to be frightened from my duty, mind that; and mind, too, that I can write a slashing article better than any man in England: I could crush her by ten lines.”