loaned you the money for a year, did I not?"

"Yes."

"Very well. The year will be up in a week."

"I would like to borrow the same amount for another year."

"I have no objection to your doing so, if you can find any one who
will lend it."

"Will you not do so?"

"No. I have other use for my money."

"I will increase the interest, if that will be any inducement. Money
in a good business like mine can bear a heavy interest."

"I am not satisfied with the security. Property is falling in
value."

"Not satisfied!'" exclaimed Tompkins, in unfeigned surprise. "The
property is worth double the sum you have advanced for my use."

"I differ with you--and I am not alone in differing."

"Very well, Mr. Wolford," said Tompkins, in a changed tone, that
evinced roused and half-indignant feeling, "you shall be paid. I can
easily transfer the security to some other person, if I find it
necessary to do so, and raise the amount due you."

Wolford, phlegmatic as he was, seemed slightly moved by this
unexpected change in the manner and position of Tompkins. He
narrowly observed the expression of his face, but did not reply. He
was afraid to trust himself to speak, lest he should betray his real
thoughts.

"You will be prepared to pay me next week, then," he at length said,
rising.

"Yes, sir. You shall have the money," replied Tompkins.

"Good day." And Wolford retired; not altogether satisfied that he
had gained all he had hoped to gain by the visit.

"Ah me!" sighed Tompkins, turning to his desk as soon as this man
had departed. "Here comes more trouble. That miserly wretch has no
more use for his money than the man in the moon. It seems to give
him delight to make every one feel his power. It is for no other
reason than this, that I am now to be harassed half out of my life
in order to raise ten thousand dollars in a week, besides meeting my
other payments. I must try and get some one to take the mortgage he
is about releasing."

While thus musing, the individual who had just left him was walking
slowly down Market Street, with his eyes upon the pavement, in deep
thought. He was a short, stoutly built old man, dressed in a
well-worn suit of brown broadcloth. His hat was white, large in the
brim, low in the crown, and pulled down so heavily on the high
collar of his coat, that it turned up behind in a very decided way,
indicating the save-all propensities of its owner. His face was as
hard as iron: it was deeply