Mrs. Wentworth's heart sank within her at the determined manner in which he expressed his refusal. Without replying she moved towards the door, and was about to leave the room when she thought of the bedstead, on the sale of which she now depended. He may loan money on it she thought, and she returned to the side of his desk. He looked up at her impatiently. "Vell," he remarked, frowning as he uttered the single word. "As you won't give me credit," said Mrs. Wentworth, "I thought you may be willing to loan me some money if I gave a security for its payment." "Vat kind of security?" he enquired. "I have, at my room, a bedstead I purchased from you some time ago," she replied. "Will you lend a small sum of money on it?" "No" he answered. "I am not a pawnbroker." "But you might accommodate a destitute mother," remarked Mrs. Wentworth. "You have refused to give me credit, and now I ask you to loan me a small sum of money, for the payment of which I offer security." "I cannot do it," he answered. "Ven I says a ting I means it." "Will you buy the bedstead then?" asked Mrs. Wentworth in despair. "Vat can I do mit it?" he enquired. "Why you can sell again," replied Mrs. Wentworth. "It will always find a purchaser, particularly now that the price of everything has increased so largely." "Veil, I vill puy te pedstead," he said, and then enquired: "How much monish do you vant for it?" "What will you give me?" she asked. "I vill give you forty tollars for it," he replied. "It must be worth more than that," she remarked. "The price of everything is so increased that it appears to me as if the bedstead should command a higher price than that offered by you." "Shust as you like, my goot voman," Mr. Swartz remarked, shrugging his shoulders. "If you vant at mine price, all veil and goot; if not, you can leave it alone. I only puy te piece of furniture to accommodate you, and you should pe tankful." "I suppose I will be obliged to take your price," replied Mrs. Wentworth, "although I believe I could get more for it, did I know any one in town who purchased such things." He made no reply, but calling his clerk ordered him to bring forty dollars from the safe. The clerk having brought the money retired, and left them alone again. "Vere is te pedstead?" asked Swartz. "It is at home," Mrs. Wentworth replied. "Den you must pring it round here before I can pay for it," he observed. "I am in want of the money now to buy bread," she answered. "If you will pay me and let your clerk follow with a dray, I would return home immediately and have the bedstead taken down and sent to you." Mr. Swartz called the clerk again, and ordered him to bring a dray to the front of the store. The clerk did as he was requested, and soon after returned with the intelligence that the dray was ready.