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Updated: June 23, 2025
Quigg again winked at the young lawyer. Matthew, having recovered from the flutter into which he was thrown, was about to disclaim the office thus thrust upon him, when the voice of Mr. Whedell was heard from the first landing. He had come to listen to the disturbance, and smile at it. "It is my dear Maltboy!" he exclaimed, catching at the straw of a hope. "Thank Heaven! he is here.
I can't get him even to talk about engaging a house in New York. He always dodges the subject, somehow. Upon my word, I think he expects to quarter on you for the balance of his life. That would be rich!" Mr. Whedell raised his eyebrows, and emitted a doleful whistle. Reflecting, he said: "You may misjudge him. Perhaps he doesn't like to disturb Love's young dream, by looking into the future.
He could now see his way out of all difficulties or out of the world, which is the same thing. Clementina, who had not yet risen to that height of philosophy, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed with fresh violence. Quigg entered, and at a glance saw that he had lost. He stopped short in the bow that he was intending to make. "Well, Whedell," said he, roughly, "how are things to-day?"
Whedell kissed his daughter in public, and not without a touch of the melodrama, for which he had cherished a fondness in his earlier days, and wrung the hand of his son-in-law. The train bore the couple away toward the city of Washington, where a portion of that indefinite season known as the honeymoon was to be passed, amid every discomfort that money could purchase.
Whedell cast at him a look of scorn, to which justice could be done in no known language; and Chiffield, with a bow of exceeding grace, left father and child to their reflections. These reflections, which were neither profitable nor interesting to the parties immediately concerned, were interrupted by a peculiarly rigorous pull at the door bell.
Miss Clementina Whedell, like many other people, had an unsuspected strength of character which only a great occasion could call out. "It is perfectly atrocious," said she, at length, "and I am making a grave sacrifice of my happiness; but I suppose I must do it. Are you sure this Chiffield is rich?" "Now, you are my own dear daughter!" said Mr.
"Exactly eleven, Clemmy," said she. "Gusty Frump," returned Miss Whedell, with some warmth, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself! We have had fifty callers, to my certain knowledge." "I presume you are right," said Mrs. Frump, with a smile that irradiated the whole of her fat face, and again imparted the idea that Miss Whedell was wrong.
Just then, when Matthew was at his wits' end, the police man who guarded the front door entered the room, and delivered a note to Mr. Whedell. That gentleman perused it languidly, and passed it to Matthew. "Good news," said he. "Mr. Abernuckle, the owner of these premises, who was intending to move in to-day, writes that he will not be able to take possession until noon to-morrow.
The sight of those beautiful coins seemed to reconcile the wretched man to life. Mr. Whedell was about to thank his preserver most profusely, and Mrs. Chiffield to burst into a new torrent, when Matthew, to avoid these demonstrations, rose, opened the door, and let in the pack of hungry creditors. Now Matthew had, in these fleeting fifteen minutes, thought up no plan of settlement.
The unfortunate servant girl, acting under her general instructions, would fain have shown him into the parlor, where his fellow sufferers, having overrun the library and dining room, were already in strong force; but Quigg, having immense interests at stake, would stand no such nonsense. "Where is Whedell?" said he. "I can't dance attendance on him all day."
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