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Updated: May 25, 2025
"The promptness of that reply shows that he does not expect a fortune with Clemmy," thought Mr. Whedell. "He must suspect perhaps already knows the truth," thought Chiffield. "How kind in him to spare me the least humiliation!" "That person is truly rich," continued Mr. Whedell, "rich beyond expression, who brings pure love and exalted virtues into the married state."
It will at least save me from the self-destruction which I had contemplated." At the word "self-destruction," Mrs. Chiffield cried aloud, and threw herself on her parent's breast, with a fresh flood of tears. These tears swept away the last trace of Matthew's prudence. He whipped out his pocket book, and delivered over five twenty-dollar gold pieces to Mr. Whedell.
Whedell left his seat by Chiffield, and took the one just vacated by his daughter. Matthew received him with the diplomatic courtesy due to the parent of one's enchantress, and made a well-meant if not novel remark on the state of the weather. Mr. W. was always disputatious on that subject and then passed to the consideration of national politics.
"Yes," said he; "our firm, like others, has had its ups and downs; but then, business would not be interesting without some little risks, you know." The easy manner of his son-in-law convinced Mr. Whedell that no "little risks" had shaken the firm of Upjack, Chiffield & Co. "Ah, yes," said he. "Rich to-day, poor to-morrow the history of the world.
"Yes, sir," said Chiffield, who, being a fat man, was happily calm; "totally ruined." "You impudent scoundrel! out of this house!" shrieked Mr. Whedell, rising from his chair, and glaring like a wildcat at his son-in-law. "Be calm," said that phlegmatic individual. "I respect your age." "Curse your impudence! what do you mean by my age?"
"Now, don't get excited, father-in-law." "How dare you call me father-in-law, sir!" "Perhaps you prefer the more endearing epithet of 'poppy, sir?" "Monster! will you leave my house?" "Have you any good old brandy on hand?" asked Chiffield. "Brandy! No. If you want brandy, sir, go to the d -l for it."
Whedell twirled the dangerous instrument, and opened and shut it with more than his usual grace, one evening toward the middle of April. He was about to broach a disagreeable subject to his daughter, who, blooming, and exquisitely dressed, sat by the fire and yawned. "My dear Clementina, you are now twenty years old, and ought to be married. Delays are dangerous. What do you think of Chiffield?"
Whedell reclined in his chair, positively enjoying the spectacle, which was all the more entertaining because the common wrath was now diverted from him. Mrs. Chiffield wept behind her handkerchief. Her bonnet was knocked on one side, and the flowers were seriously disarranged, indicating a real case of distress. Sauve qui peut was now the motto among all the small creditors.
Unless he was mistaken, that person was the one who wore an entire suit of pepper and salt, including a felt hat, necktie, and gaiters, two summers before. Mr. Quigg was a novelty in Mr. Chiffield's eyes; but Mr. Chiffield was well known by sight to Mr. Quigg, who also remembered to have heard that he was a partner in the great drygoods house of Upjack, Chiffield & Co. Mr.
Mr. Chiffield and Mr. Whedell had settled themselves on a tête-
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