“I didn't forget about it, Mr. Albritton! All these years I have not forgotten it. All these years I have been waiting for this day to make you sorry. All these years I have been waiting for this day to get even with you. I was that little Jew boy, Mr. Albritton. In my legs I have now the red marks from your dogs' teeth. And so now you come here and you stand here before me”--he raised his chubby clenched fists and shook them--“and you--you--you--ask me that I should do you favours!” “Mr. Felsburg,” said Albritton--and his figure drooped as though he would prostrate himself before the triumphant little man--“I ain't saying this because I hope to get any help from you in a money way--I know there's no chance of that now--I'm saying it because I mean it from the bottom of my soul. I'm sorry. If I thought you'd believe me I'd be willing to go down on my knees and take my Bible oath that I'm sorry.” “You should save yourself the trouble, Mr. Albritton,” said Mr. Felsburg, calmer now. “In the part of your Bible which I believe in it says 'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth,' Mr. Albritton.” “All right!” said Albritton. “You've had your say--you're even with me.” He turned from the gloating figure of the other and started to go. From the chair in which he had reseated himself, Felsburg, a pic-ture of vengeance gratified and sated, watched him, saying nothing until the bankrupt had descended the first step of the stairs and the second. Then he spoke. “You wait!” he ordered in the tone of a master. “I am not yet done.” “What's the use?” said Albritton; but he faced about, humbled and crushed. “There ain't anything you could say or do that would make me feel any worse.” “Come back!” bade Felsburg; and, like a man whipped, the other came back to the doorway. “You're even with me, I tell you,” he said from the threshold. “What's the use of piling it on?” Mr. Felsburg did not answer in words. He reached behind him to his desk, wadded up something in his fingers, and, once more rising, he advanced, with his figure distended, on Albritton. Albritton flinched, then straightened himself. “Hit me if you want to,” he said brokenly. “I won't hit back if you do. I deserve it.” “Yes, I will hit you,” said Felsburg. “With this I will hit you.” Into Albritton's right hand he thrust a crumpled slip of paper. At the wadded paper Albritton stared numbly. “I don't know what you are driving at,” he said; “but, if this is a notice of foreclosure, I don't need any notice.” “Look at it--close,” bade Felsburg. And Albritton, obeying, looked; and his face turned from red to white and then to red again. “Now you see what it is,” said Felsburg. “It is my check for four hundred dollars. I loan it to you--without security; and to-day I fix up those mortgages for you. Mr. Albritton, I am even with you. All the days from now on that you live in your house I am getting even with you--more and more every day what passes. And now, please, go away.”