"
"Can't do it; you want a long extension, I s'pose."
"Say three or four months."
"Time is money, as I told you before. In four months, with forty
thousand dollars, I could--do pretty well," ending the sentence in a
lower tone, that indicated a desire to keep his first thought back.
"In a time like this, Mr. Bullion, it is the duty of every man to assist
his neighbor to the extent of his ability. If there is no forbearance,
no brotherly aid, how are the complicated settlements of a mad community
like this to be made? There is not money enough to pay what must be
paid."
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.
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