“I don’t wish to come here again.  That boy’s impudence has put me all out of conceit with you and your family,” replied Mr. Hardhand, assuming the most benevolent look he could command.  “There was a time when I was very willing to help you.  I have waited a great while for my pay for this house; a great deal longer than I would have waited for anybody else.”

“Your interest has always been paid punctually,” suggested the widow, modestly.

“That’s true; but very few people would have waited as long as I have for the principal.  I wanted to help you—­”

“By gracious!” exclaimed Bobby, interrupting him.

“Don’t be saucy, my son, don’t,” said Mrs. Bright, fearing a repetition of the former scene.

“He wanted to help us!” ejaculated Bobby.

It was a very absurd and hypocritical expression on the part of Mr. Hardhand; for he never wanted to help any one but himself; and during the whole period of his relations with the poor widow, he had oppressed, insulted, and abused her to the extent of his capacity, or at least as far as his interest would permit.

He was a malicious and revengeful man.  He did not consider the great provocation he had given Bobby for his violent conduct, but determined to be revenged, if it could be accomplished without losing any part of the sixty dollars still due him.  He was a wicked man at heart, and would not scruple to turn the widow and her family out of house and home.

Mrs. Bright knew this, and Bobby knew it too; and they felt very uneasy about it.  The wretch still had the power to injure them, and he would use it without compunction.

“Yes, young man, I wanted to help you, and you see what I get for it—­contempt and insults!  You will hear from me again in a day or two.  Perhaps you will change your tune, you young reprobate!”

“Perhaps I shall,” replied Bobby, without much discretion.

“And you too, marm; you uphold him in his treatment of me.  You have not done your duty to him.  You have been remiss, marm!” continued Mr. Hardhand, growing bolder again, as he felt the power he wielded.

“That will do, sir; you can go!” said Bobby, springing from his chair, and approaching Mr. Hardhand.  “Go, and do your worst!”

“Humph! you stump me—­do you?”

“I would rather see my mother kicked out of the house than insulted by such a dried-up old curmudgeon as you are.  Go along!”

“Now, don’t, Bobby,” pleaded his mother.

“I am going; and if the money is not paid by twelve o’clock to-morrow, the law shall lake its course;” and Mr. Hardhand rushed out of the house, slamming the door violently after him.

“O Bobby, what have you done?” exclaimed Mrs. Bright, when the hard-hearted creditor had departed.

“I could not help it, mother; don’t cry.  I cannot bear to hear you insulted and abused; and I thought when I heard him do it a year ago, that I couldn’t stand it again.  It is too bad.”