Read "Paul Prescott's Charge" by Horatio Alger, Jr. online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
George Dawkins was standing at his desk one morning, when a man entered the office, and stepping up to him, unceremoniously tapped him on the shoulder.
Dawkins turned. He looked extremely annoyed on perceiving his visitor, whose outward appearance was certainly far from prepossessing. His face exhibited unmistakable marks of dissipation, nor did the huge breast pin and other cheap finery which he wore conceal the fact of his intense vulgarity. His eyes were black and twinkling, his complexion very dark, and his air that of a foreigner. He was, in fact, a Frenchman, though his language would hardly have betrayed him, unless, as sometimes, he chose to interlard his discourse with French phrases.
"How are you this morning, my friend? " said the newcomer.
"What are you here for? " asked Dawkins, roughly.
"That does not seem to me a very polite way of receiving your friends."
"Friends! " retorted Dawkins, scornfully, "who authorized you to call yourself my friend?"
"Creditor, then, if it will suit you better, mon ami."
"Hush," said Dawkins, in an alarmed whisper, "he will hear," here he indicated Paul with his finger.
"And why should I care? I have no secrets from the young man."
"Stop, Duval," exclaimed Dawkins, in an angry whisper, "Leave the office at once. Your appearing here will injure me."
"But I am not your friend; why should I care? " sneered Duval.
"Listen to reason. Leave me now, and I will meet you when and where you will."
"Come, that sounds better."
"Now go. I'm afraid Mr. Danforth will be in."
"If he comes, introduce me."
Dawkins would like to have knocked the fellow over.
"Name your place and time, and be quick about it," said he impatiently.
"Eight o'clock this evening, you know where," was the answer.
"Very well. Good-morning."
"Mind you bring some money."