“I shall have hard work to get through to-day, I know,” said he to himself, as he sat at his desk on the following morning.

“Two hundred and fifty dollars to be raised by borrowing.  I don’t know where I can get it.”

To many this would be a small sum, but Mr. Allison was peculiarly situated.  He was an honest, upright mechanic, but he was poor.  It was with difficulty he had raised the fifty dollars on the day previous.  Although he had never once failed in returning money at the time promised, still, for some reason or other, everybody appeared unwilling to lend him.  It was nearly two O’clock and he was still a hundred dollars short.

“Well,” said he to himself, “I have done all I could, and if Hall won’t renew the note for the balance, it will have to be protested.  I’ll go and ask him, though I have not much hope that he will do it.”

As he was about leaving his shop for that purpose, a gentleman entered who wished to buy a second-hand carriage.  Mr. Allison had but one, and that almost new, for which he asked a hundred and forty dollars.

“It is higher than I wished to go,” remarked the gentleman.  “I ought to get a new one for that price.”

“So you can, but not like this.  I can sell you a new one for a hundred and twenty-five dollars.  But what did you expect to pay for one?”

“I was offered one at Holton’s for seventy-five; but I did not like it.  I will give you a hundred for yours.”

“It is too little, indeed, sir:  that carriage cost three hundred dollars when it was new.  It was in use a very short time.  I allowed a hundred and forty dollars for it myself.”

“Well, sir, I would not wish you to sell at a disadvantage, but if you like to, accept of my offer I’ll take it.  I’m prepared to pay the cash down.”

Mr. Allison did not reply for some minutes.  He was undecided as to what was best.

“Forty dollars,” said he to himself, “is a pretty heavy discount.  I am almost tempted to refuse his offer and trust to Hall’s renewing the note.  But suppose he won’t—­then I’m done for.  I think, upon the whole, I had better accept it.  I’ll put it at one hundred and twenty-five, my good friend,” said he, addressing the customer.

“No, sir; one hundred is all I shall give.”

“Well, I suppose you must have it, then; but indeed you have got a bargain.”

“It is too bad,” muttered Allison to himself, as he left the bank after having paid his note.  “There is just forty dollars thrown away.  And why?  Simply because those who are blessed with the means of discharging their debts promptly, neglect to do so.”

“How did you make out to-day, George?” asked his wife, as they sat at the tea-table that same evening.

“I met my note, and that was all.”

“Did you give your men anything?”

“Not a cent.  I had but one dollar left after paying that.  I was sorry for them, but I could not help them.  I am afraid Robinson’s family will suffer, for there has been sickness in his house almost constantly for the last twelvemonth.  His wife, he told me the other day, had not been out; of her bed for six weeks.  Poor fellow!  He looked quite dejected when I told him I had nothing for him.”