Mr. Augustus Whedell was a gentleman who had been living handsomely for three years on his wits.
There was nothing remarkable in Mr. Whedell's personal appearance, with the exception of his wig. It was his fond belief that this wig looked like natural hair; but everybody knew it was a wig across the street. He also wore a gold double eyeglass, which he handled as effectively as a senorita her fan. Most of his loans, credits, and extensions, had been obtained by the dexterous manipulation of that eyeglass.
Mr. 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?"
Mr. Whedell spoke bluntly, and to the point, because he was addressing his own daughter, and also because short speeches suited his natural languor.
"He's a horrid dancer!" said that young lady.
"Granted. But when he does dance, he jingles money in his pocket."
"He's a perfect fright, pa. You won't deny that?"
"I won't deny that he is a plain, substantial gentleman. He has immense feet, and he is a little bald. What of that?"
"Oh! nothing," replied Clementina, in a tone that signified "Everything."
Her father caught the irony of the remark, and said:
"My dear child, I know the natural leaning of your sex to handsome men. You are like your mother there. But remember, they never have any money--as a general rule. I won't undertake to explain the curious fact. But fact it is, you will admit that."
"Very likely. But I hate this old Chiffield."
Mr. Whedell smiled, twirled his double eyeglass a few dozen times round his forefinger, and said:
"My darling daughter, listen, and you will appreciate the advantages of this match."
Clementina frowned, and bit her finger nails.
"My child," continued the fond parent, "I have always concealed my troubles from you. They can no longer be kept a secret. This house is not mine. Most of this furniture is unpaid for. The last month's bills at the butcher's, baker's, and grocer's are still due. I have exhausted my credit, and don't know where to raise a dollar. That is my 'situation,' as the newspapers say."
Clementina turned pale with amazement, and could not say a word.
"You are willing to hear me? I will explain further. Three years ago, my old friend Mr. Abernuckle failed. He owned this house, and, wishing to save it from his creditors, he had previously made a sham sale of it to me. I have occupied it free of rent. On the strength of this house, I got credit for furniture, for clothes, for our bread and meat. On the strength of this house, I have borrowed money enough to keep my principal creditors at bay. On the strength of this house, we occupy to-day a very fair position in society. On the strength of this house, I propose to marry you."
His daughter still looked on with open mouth, like one stupefied.
"But, to do this, no time must be lost. My friend Abernuckle has at last settled with his creditors at fifteen per cent., and wants possession of the house on the 1st of May. On that day this will be our home no longer."
There was a fearless pull at the door bell. "It is a creditor," said Mr. Whedell. "I will face him."
Mr. Whedell went to the door, and returned in a few moments. "It was the butcher," said he. "He had called twice to-day, and, not finding me in, takes this unusual hour to ask for a settlement. The old excuses would not do. What do you suppose I told him this time?"
"I can't imagine. Something dreadful, I suppose," was the shuddering reply.
"The man had to be got rid of. We must have meat. I was at my wits' end. So I took the liberty of telling him, confidentially, that my daughter would marry a wealthy merchant in a few days, and asked him, as a favor, to let the bill run on to the 1st of May. On that day he should positively be paid. The man grumbled at first, but finally said he would give me one more trial, and then went away. Neatly arranged, wasn't it, my dear?"
Mr. Whedell would have been delighted with one word of approval (even a qualified one) from his daughter, but she would not, or could not speak it.
"You listen attentively, my darling. I am glad to see it. This plan worked so well with the butcher, that I shall try it on with the upholsterer, the baker, the grocer, the tailor, and the rest of my long list of creditors. I shall stake all on the 1st of May. To save us from a grand explosion, and to obtain a roof for your head and mine on the 1st of May, you must marry immediately."
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. Whedell, tossing his double eyeglass up and catching it, as was his custom when exulting. "Your question is a prudent one, and worthy of you. I am happy to inform you that Chiffield is worth one hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
Clementina smiled faintly, though she tried to look like a martyr.
"I learn this from the tax rolls. When Chiffield first began to call here, and showed a profound interest in my conversation, I knew that he was after you, and I thought it best to look into his resources. The tax rolls, which are the best possible evidence, show that he has ten lots in Harlem, with a cottage tenement on each of them, and several acres now rented to German gardeners in the Twelfth Ward. These are rated in a lump at seventy-five thousand dollars, which is a low estimate. So much for the real estate. Now the personal property of Upjack, Chiffield & Co. is valued on the same tax rolls (which always understate it) at three hundred thousand dollars. Suppose Chiffield to own a one-fourth interest only, and there you have the item of seventy-five thousand dollars more. Grand total, one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. A nearer figure would probably be two hundred thousand dollars; but I will not build castles in the air for you. Chiffield is only forty--which is, in fact, young. He is healthy and energetic. The firm are making money. He will yet be a millionnaire. Confess, now, that I have chosen wisely for you."
Here another decisive pull at the door bell. Mr. Whedell answered it in person. Returning, he merely said, giving his double eyeglass a fillip, "The furniture man. Have fixed him for the 1st of May. So far, the plan works well."
"But are you sure, pa," asked the discreet Clementina, "that Mr. Chiffield will offer himself?"
"Positive; because he has always been so very attentive to me. When men flatter, and study the hobbies of the father, they are after the daughter in earnest. Mr. Chiffield's very figure--the cut of his jib, so to speak--is that of a marrying man. Only you must give him some little encouragement. Not keep him at a distance, as you have hitherto done."
"But he may not be anxious to marry before the 1st of May. Then what?"
"Poor thing! how little you understand mankind! He will marry you at twenty-four hours' notice, if you will let him. All men are alike impatient and unreasonable in such matters. It is the women who hold back--after they are safely engaged."
"La, pa! how knowingly you talk!"
"I flatter myself I know something of the human species," returned Mr. Whedell. "Ah! another ring. Too faint for a creditor. Mr. Chiffield, perhaps."