"It--it's very late, Mrs. Brixham."
[Illustration]
"I wish I might speak to you, sir," said the landlady, very piteously.
"About Morgan, I suppose? He has cooled himself at the pump. Can't
take him back, Mrs. Brixham. Impossible. I'd determined to part with
him before, when I heard of his dealings in the discount business--I
suppose you've heard of them, Mrs. Brixham? My servant's a
capitalist, begad."
"O sir," said Mrs. Brixham, "I know it to my cost. I borrowed from him
a little money five years ago; and though I have paid him many times
over, I am entirely in his power. I am ruined by him, sir. Every thing
I had is his. He's a dreadful man." "Eh, Mrs. Brixham? _tant
pis_--dev'lish sorry for you, and that I must quit your house after
lodging here so long: there's no help for it. I must go."
"He says we must all go, sir," sobbed out the luckless widow. "He came
down stairs from you just now--he had been drinking, and it always
makes him very wicked--and he said that you had insulted him, sir, and
treated him like a dog, and spoken to him unkindly; and he swore he
would be revenged, and--and I owe him a hundred and twenty pounds,
sir--and he has a bill of sale of all my furniture--and says he will
turn me out of my house, and send my poor George to prison.
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