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Updated: June 23, 2025
Chiffield's mature age, his grim appearance, his sparse whiskers, and even the bald spot on the top of his head, were eminent advantages with which youth and bloom, and a full head of hair could not cope unless with the aid of that fascination which Matthew flattered himself that he possessed, and which, he thought, he had used to some purpose during his hurried conversation with his twentieth enslaver, Miss Whedell.
Chiffield continued: "To save any further circumlocution, sir, and in order that we may fully understand each other, I will say at once, that we are completely ruined!" "Ha! What! Who ruined?" "The house of Upjack, Chiffield & Co. I I thought you knew it." "Ruined, sir!" cried Mr. Whedell, livid with horror. He choked for further utterance.
Whedell's residence had not yet come to claim possession. Creditors are early birds; but the hour sis and a half A.M. was even too early for them; and only one Mr. Rickarts, the shoemaker had called. He had been disposed of in the library, by the servant, under the pretence that Mr. Whedell was not yet up. But Mr.
Whedell seated himself on the other end of the sofa, and reached out his hand, as if he would have taken his daughter's caressingly within it. If that was his intention, it was frustrated by her drawing the hand away. Then the father heaved a sigh, and said: "Ah, my child, I am so thankful that you have returned to-day. You will save us from ruin." "I save you from ruin!" said Mrs.
How naturally that phrase comes to my lips. And you are about to take her away. It's a foolish thought, but I hardly know how I shall live without her." Mr. Whedell paused, for effect, and contemplated the vermicular work in the carpet. "A happy thought strikes me," said Chiffield. "You have a house here, already furnished.
The lean Overtop immediately felt a tender inclination toward this fat young lady. Mr. Quigg paid the compliments of the season in his neat, settled style, to Miss Whedell the tall young lady who received them with marked coldness, and then begged leave to introduce Messrs.
Mr. Chiffield and Mr. Whedell had settled themselves on a tête-
Having turned that gentleman into the apartment reserved for him, and shut the door, Mr. Whedell paused at the head of the stairs, and listened for the developments below. The servant, after waiting for two or three more jerks at the bell, so as to be quite sure that it was the bell, went to the door, and there found Mr.
"Regard it in the light of a family investment," suggested the soothing Chiffield. "You diabolical scoundrel!" yelled Mr. Whedell, in a partial asphyxia of rage; "if I had a million dollars to-day, I wouldn't give you a cent. You should starve first. But I want to tell you and hang me if it isn't a pleasure, too that I am a beggar, sir a beggar, sir a beggar, sir!
Whedell, turning pale "But then," he added, with an effort to laugh, "Mr. Chiffield is a business man, and was an old bachelor. He knows nothing of women's wants. It must be your mission to teach him what they are." "Pooh!" said the daughter; "I don't believe he has got any money." "Don't talk so, my child. You put me in a cold sweat."
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