'A late hour for an importunate creditor,' he said, raising his eyebrows
with as indolent an expression of wonder as if the noise were in the
street, and one with which he had not the smallest possible concern.
'Much after their accustomed time. The usual pretence I suppose. No
doubt a heavy payment to make up tomorrow. Poor fellow, he loses time,
and time is money as the good proverb says--I never found it out though.
Well. What now? You know I am not at home.'
'A man, sir,' replied the servant, who was to the full as cool and
negligent in his way as his master, 'has brought home the riding-whip
you lost the other day. I told him you were out, but he said he was to
wait while I brought it in, and wouldn't go till I did.'
'He was quite right,' returned his master, 'and you're a blockhead,
possessing no judgment or discretion whatever. Tell him to come in, and
see that he rubs his shoes for exactly five minutes first.'
The man laid the whip on a chair, and withdrew. The master, who had only
heard his foot upon the ground and had not taken the trouble to turn
round and look at him, shut his book, and pursued the train of ideas his
entrance had disturbed.
'If time were money,' he said, handling his snuff-box, 'I would compound
with my creditors, and give them--let me see--how much a day? There's
my nap after dinner--an hour--they're extremely welcome to that, and to
make the most of it.
Pages:
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313