"
Two weeks later, however, he lay in wait for Ford when he left Wall
Street.
"I want to speak to you a moment, Mr. Ford," he said.
"Well, what is it?" asked Ford, uncomfortably.
"I am hard up."
"So am I," responded Willis Ford.
"But you owe me a matter of six hundred dollars."
"I know it, but you said you wouldn't trouble me."
"I didn't expect I should be obliged to," said Morrison, smoothly.
"But 'Circumstances alter cases,' you know. I shall have to ask you
for it."
"That's all the good it will do," said Willis, irritably. "I haven't
a cent to my name."
"When do you expect to have?"
"Heaven knows; I don't."
Ford was about to leave his companion and walk away, but Morrison
had no intention of allowing the matter to end so. He laid his hand
on Ford's shoulder and said, firmly: "Mr. Ford, this won't do. Yours
is a debt of honor, and must be paid."
"Will you be kind enough to let me know how it is to be paid?"
demanded Ford, with an ugly sneer.
"That is your business, not mine, Mr. Ford."
"Then, if it is my business, I'll give you notice when I can pay
you. And now, good-afternoon."
He made another attempt to walk away, but again there was a hand
placed upon his shoulder.
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