COLLECTING A BAD DEBT.

New Zealand Herald, Volume V, Issue 1343, 6 March 1868, Page 6

COLLECTING A BAD DEBT.

It was a dingy, ill-ventilated little cell in the topmost stratum of one of those immense human beehives that people call " tenement houses"— a room where washtubs and children, kettles and kittens, potato-parings and clothes-pins, were scattered about in reckless disregard of the divine principles of order. Dr. Maynard stood still in the middle of the chaos, afraid to move lest lie should step in the star.cli bowl, or on one of the children who swarmed about the floor. Dr. Maynard had recently come into possession ot this property by the death of a relative, nor was he particularly pleased with his new acquisition. The few weekly visits he had made were not accompanied by any particularly agreeable reminiscences; in fact, he dreaded them, as a civilized colonist might dread an irruption into the savage jungles of African wildernesses. Dr. Maynard had always made human nature a study; but this nature seemed scarcely human in its odd, Celtic developments. " Of all people I ever stumbled across," said Dr. Maynard, " the Irish are the most improvident. What is tho reason I can never get my rent on this floor? The German people down stairs are always ready, and my American tenants are a mociel of punctuality. It's really a very unficcountable thing to me!" " Sure sir, 'tisn't my fault," said Mrs Tooley, lifting the corner of her coarse checked apron to her eyes, partly to check the tears that always rose readily to her muddy blue eyes, and partly to hide the flush of mortification that suffused her freckled cheek ; while Terry and Mike and little N orah clung to their mother's voluminous skirts in a sort of vague apprehension that some" thing was wrong, although their tiny mindu could hardly take in the full meaning of the catastrophe that was disturbing their domestie peace. " Not your fault, Mrs. Tooley P" repeated Dr. Maynard, in sharp accents. " But it never is your fault, according to your own story," " My man is sick, sir, wid the rheumatiz in his knee joints," apologized the Irishwoman, " and it's hard work we nave to get along, and provide the bit and the sup for the growin' childher ; meself knows the rint ought to be paid, and it you'll have a little patience, sir- ■ >" " Patience, patience, patience !" ejaculated the doctor, each iword uttered in a key somewhat higher than the last. " One ought to have the patience of Job to get ilong with such a pack of tenants as I have. Why don t you work ? Mrs. Tooley glanced a little reproachfully at the washtub in the corner —a sort of altar enshrined in the incense of steaming soap-suds. " Indade, sir, I try me best; and I had hoped to have the money ready for you to-day, but Mrs. Napier put me off as 'she's done many a time, bad luck till her. It's the girl's new dresses cost so much, says she. 'You re too impudent altogether, Bridget,' says she—and me starvin for tiie money that's me own, and not hers at all, at all !" "Do you mean Mrs. John Napier?" asked Dr. Maynard. " Sure, I do, sir. and it's nine dollars and sixty cents she's owin' me for the sweat of me brow and the wear and tear of me hard-worked hands," said Bridget Tooley, looking down at the red parboiled members aforesaid.

" And won't she pay you ?" " Never a red cent, sir, though I told her how Patrick had the rheumatiz, and the children lad'nt bread and salt to be comfortable. She s uver paid me since I began to wash for her five reeks ago the very last Tuesday that ever was!" " It's a shame," said Dr.Maynard, laconically. " Sure an it is, sir," assented Bridget, meekly ; ' but what can a poor body do ?" Dr. Maynard murmured something under his jreath. Mrs. Tooley could just catch here and ;here a disjointed word of the old bible sentence laving regard to " grindin the faces of the poor ?" ' Well, Bridget, you are not so much to blame is I thought you were," said lie in a milder tone, is ho turned abruptly on his heel. " I'll call igain next week; it's more than likely you'll Slave the money by that time." " The blessin' of all the saints be about yez and overyez," whined the relieved Bridget. But the unceremonious closing of the door cut short Mrs. Tooley's shower of blessings and unnecessary details. Dr. Maynard went slowly down the echoing, uncarpeted stairs, with his hands in his pockets, and his brows contracted, in a brown study. As he entered his office, several blocks below, the first thing that met his eye was a note, written on perfumed pink paper, and sealed with a gorgeous heraldic device in rose-colored wax. "Hum-m-!" muttered the doctor, between his closed lips. " Mr. Napier's compliments ; pleasure of Ur. Maynard's company to dinner on Thursday evening next, at 6 o'clock. Another of their champagne and turbot celebrations, eh ? Well—well —well —these things are not much to my fancy, but I believe I'll go this time; I believe—l- will," repeated the doctor, thoughtfully stroking his chin, a habit he often had when his mind was busy at work. And then he sat down to his desk and wrote a formal note of acceptance, and stiff and short as he was himself. The jN apier mansion, a showy edifice of stucco and plate glass, after rather a doubtful style of architecture, was all in" a blaze of light and flowers when Dr. Maynnrd arrived there on the eventful Thursday evening, a few minutes before 6 o'clock. Mrs. Napier, in a silver-green moire antique, and quivering ornaments of pearls, received him with smiling urbanity ; and Miss Theodosia Agnes Napier, in an artless toilette of white muslin and half open rosebuds, emblematic of her own youth, directed her sweetest glai/ccs toward the stiff old bachelordoctor, whose wealth was reputed to be so considerable. Other guests were also assembled—the elite of the city—and Mrs. Napier's heart thrilled high with pride as she glanced round upon the various personages grouped about her rooms. >. Mrs. Napier was a Napoleon in social life— an Alexander in crinoline. If she had been a man she would have left an impress on the shores of time ; being a woman her sphere was necessarily more contracted. Born a parvenu, she had resolved, from the very first, to conquer the walled citadels of society. Always struggling with limited means, adverse circumstances, and unlucky combinations of events, Mrs. Napier

bad yet set herself to conquer Fate, and she had nearly achieved lier purpose. Outward appearances were her forte; and as to principle, Mrs. Napier was as unscrupulous as any modern European statesmen. JNow at length she was beginning to reap the harvest she had watched and waited for so long, and her spirit rose up within her exultant, in spite of the supercilious insolence with which many of the guests treated her. " Thej despise me still," thought Mrs. Napier; "but X will yet conquer them." Meanwhile Dr. Maynard said but little ; nevertheless his keen eye was taking note of all the elegant trifles and expensive gimcracks that were scattered so lavishly round, and at length when the company were assembled at the long dining table, where hot roses glowed in crystal epergnes, and cut glass sparkled, and massive I silver (who was to know that it was hired for the occasion ?) gleamed, he lifted his eyebrows and compressed his thin lips. " They need a lesson these foolish aspiring upstarts," he said, within himself, " and this is the most fitting opportunity for administering it." So the tide of dinner table talk ebbed and flowed, and bon mots sparkled with evanescent glitter, and people laughed at they scarcely knew what, and the rose-beaded champagne, circled round and round the board, and Mrs. Napier thought triumphantly to herself: "It will be a success." Just then Dr. Maynard's calm, monotonously pitched voice broke in upon the silence that had momentarily settled upon the festive assemblage. " Mrs. Napier," he said, looking full at the hostess, " this is a very elegant table cloth." Mrs. Napier smiled blandly, and inclined her head, until the part ornaments tinkled softly. It was a very singular remark, but then every one knew that Dr. Maynard was one of those eccentric geniuses that nobody pretends to understand or criticize. " And these napkins areas white the driven snow," went on the doctor, critically surveying the double damask on his lap. Again Mrs. Napier bowed. " Moreover, pursued the doctor, in the same calm, unvarying tone, " I have been admiring Miss Napier's white muslin dress." "All—yes," simpered the gratified mamma, " white is very becoming my Thedosia's style." And she glanced towards 'lhedosia, who was playing with her black Hamburg grapes in a manner eminently calculated to display her rings. '• You must have a good laundress," said the doctor, abruptly. " I believe Mrs. Tcoley is quite competent to her business," answered Mrs. Napier, a little puzzled, but trying to indicate her claims " to the best society " by expressing no symptoms of surprise whatever. " You are satisfied with her, then, madam ?" " Quite." " Then why don't you pay her for her work ?" The elite dropped its silver fork and set down its glasses of champagne, quite uncertain whither this singular investigation was about to lead. Mrs. apicr turned scarlet. " Dr. Maynard, I do not understand you." "Do you not, madam P Then I will endeavour to speak a little more plainly. Mrs. Tooley is one of my tenants —she cannot raise her rent because Mrs. Napier has not paid her a cent for the five weeks' washing she has done. As I cannot for an instant suppose that Mrs. Napier would withhold the wages of her laundress on any other ground than that of inability to pay, I can only suppose her too poor to discharge her righttul dues. He was silent a moment. Mrs. Napier strove to speak, but something rose up in her throbbin"' throat and seemed to choke her. Mr. Napier sat at his eud of the table aghast. " Under these melancholy circumstances," resumed the ruthless doctor, " I beg leave to suggest taking up a collection at the table for the benefit of Mrs. Napier's distressed washerwoman, whose bills have not been paid ! I put in a quarter myself—will somebody be kind enough to pass the china-plate ?" The china plate went round the table in perfect silence, and returned to its original source well filled. The elite, maliciously alive to all the weak spots in Mrs. Napier'e armour, appeared to enjoy the thing. Mr. Napier, smiling faintly, endeavoured to regard it as a joke; but his wife knew that this one evening had undone the work of years, and sat pale and silent. She could cheerfully have murdered Dr. Maynard at that moment, and Mrs. Tooiey, too ! " Fifty dollars," said the doctor, deliberately counting them over, " and twenty cents over; they will not come amiss to Mrs. Tooley, however. Ladies and gentlemen, I bid you a very goodevening!"