“_He_ know? Lord! he knew fast enough,” replied the Captain. “Laws? All the laws he obeys are the laws that go for his money. There’s lots like him. They go for every money law, from the Fugitive Slave Law upward, for I ruther guess there ain’t no downward from the Fugitive Slave Law. Why, there’s a Massachusetts law aginst over usury. Who don’t keep it? Who lets out money for ten per cent., twenty per cent., any per cent. they can git? Them very sort o’ men that’s always blatherin’ about obedience to the laws, right or wrong. Ony when a man’s libaty’s consarned, and the law goes for takin’ it away from him, then they’re awfully law-abidin’ citizens. By the great horn spoon! I’d just like to have the stringin’ up of them law-abiders with a copy of the Revised Statutes round their necks!” Harrington leaned back in his chair, with his hands clasped, and his brow knitted. “Well, as I was sayin’,” resumed the Captain, “I went into one of them houses. ‘Young women,’ says I, leavin’, ‘you’d better repent, for the kingdom of heaven’s at hand.’ I tell you I was mad when I found a similar state o’ things in the tother two, and I just bounced out, and went right down to Lem Atkins. ‘Mr. Atkins,’ says I, ‘you’d better employ your former agent for them houses.’ ‘What’s the matter, Fisher,’ says he. ‘Matter is,’ says I, ‘that I guess you don’t know what sort o’ callin’ ’s followed in them tenements.’ ‘It’s not my business, Mr. Fisher,’ says he, ‘to busy myself with the occupation of my tenants. How dare you speak to me in that manner.’ I looked him right in the eye. He swelled up like a turkey-cock, but he didn’t look at me a second. ‘Mr. Atkins,’ says I, ‘no offince, but as I’ve got sons and a daughter, the occupation of your tenants is a consarn o’ mine, and you must get another man to collect them rents, for I wunt do it, an’ I pity the man that will.’ He turned off to his desk. ‘Mr. Fisher,’ says he, ‘you wunt do any more collectin’ for me, so just send up your accounts, and we’ll be quits.’ ‘Very well,’ says I, and I left with his collectin’ off my hands for good.” “Bravo, Eldad! That was done like a man!” cried Harrington. “If it wasn’t for bringin’ disgrace on his sister and that splendid daughter of hers,” said the Captain, rising, with his pipe in his clenched hand, “I’d just let the thing be known around town, I would. Say, John, she’s a beauty, though, ain’t she? John, she’s the ony lady I know that’s good enough for you.” Harrington colored deeply, in spite of himself. “Well, the other one’s splendid, too,” said the Captain, as if in answer to a private thought of the young man, scrutinizing his countenance meanwhile, with his own head all awry. “Yes, she’s a regular clipper. I never was so took aback by any human action as by that offer to buy Roux’s brother. That was ginerosity such as we read of—ony it’s a pity she didn’t know the harm she was doin’. Yes, she’s a glory, and that’s a fact. Still, I wish it was tother one.”