“My dear Maltboy,” said he, closing the parlor door, “excuse the abruptness of the question; but could you lend me a couple of hundred?”

The question was indeed abrupt, but not altogether unexpected.  Mr. Quigg had apprised Maltboy of Mr. Whedell’s financial weakness; but the infatuation of the ardent young bachelor had led him to disregard that warning.  He was fully prepared to say, “Yes, with pleasure,” and he did say so.

“Thank you,” said the gratified parent.  “Only want it a few days.”  Mr. Whedell was too great an adept in the art of borrowing, to waste words of tedious explanation and gratitude, which only produce an impression that the borrower does not mean to pay.  He accepted Maltboy’s reply as a matter of course.

“If not too much trouble, could you give me a check to-night?” asked Mr. Whedell.  “Have a payment to make before bank hours to-morrow.”

“Most readily, my dear sir,” replied the amiable Matthew.  “Have you pen and paper convenient?”

“In this room, Mr. Maltboy,” said his host, ushering him into a little apartment at the end of the entry, which contained a few books, and was passed off upon a credulous world as Mr. Whedell’s library.  The gas was lighted, writing materials were produced, and, in less than three minutes, Matthew Maltboy had put his name at the bottom of a check on the ——­ Bank, for two hundred dollars.  He did so smiling, and with a full consciousness that he had sustained a dead loss to that extent.  But he was always too good-natured to deny a friend; and, in this particular case, he felt that he was buying a perpetual free admission to the house, and a usufructuary interest in the fascinations of Clementina.  The idea of marriage with that young lady had never occurred to him.  He never troubled himself with problems of the future.

“All right,” said Mr. Whedell, folding up the check carelessly, and putting it in his pocket.  “Shall I give you my note?”

“Oh, no!” said the willing victim, blandly.  “Hand it me any time, at your convenience.”

“Can return it within a week,” responded Mr. Whedell; “but, on some accounts, the 1st of May will suit me best, if perfectly agreeable to you.”

“As you please.”

“We will call it the 1st of May, then.  I regret you are in a hurry, sir.  But remember, we are always happy to see you here.”

With this pleasant remark ringing in his ears, and fully compensating him for the loss of his two hundred dollars, Maltboy hastened home, but did not tell his friends of his adventure; but he smoked and mused over it agreeably, and was totally unmindful of the truth announced by Mr. Quigg on New Year’s day, when speaking of this same Whedell, that “somehow debtors always give the cold shoulder to creditors, as if the creditors owed the money.”

Mr. Whedell, left to his own society, flattered himself that he had turned a rejected lover to a good account, and entered his library and sat down in the cold, that he might not, by his presence, mar the harmonious progress of the courtship upon which so much depended, in the parlor.