Part 35 (2/2)

”Don't keep 'em,” said the boy, and buried himself once more in his copy of ”Spicy Sn.i.g.g.e.rs.”

”I'll just look round,” said Horace, and began to poke about with a sinking heart, and a horrid dread that he might have come to the wrong shop, for the big pot-bellied vessel certainly did not seem to be there.

At last, to his unspeakable joy, he discovered it under a piece of tattered drugget. ”Why, this is the sort of thing I meant,” he said, feeling in his pocket and discovering that he had exactly a sovereign.

”How much do you want for it?”

”I dunno,” said the boy.

”I don't mind three s.h.i.+llings,” said Horace, who did not wish to appear too keen at first.

”I'll tell the guv'nor when he comes in,” was the reply, ”and you can look in later.”

”I want it at once,” insisted Horace. ”Come, I'll give you three-and-six for it.”

”It's more than it's wurf,” replied the candid youth.

”Perhaps,” said Horace, ”but I'm rather pressed for time. If you'll change this sovereign, I'll take the bottle away with me.”

”You seem uncommon anxious to get 'old on it, mister!” said the boy, with sudden suspicion.

”Nonsense!” said Horace. ”I live close by, and I thought I might as well take it, that's all.”

”Oh, if that's all, you can wait till the guv'nor's in.”

”I--I mayn't be pa.s.sing this way again for some time,” said Horace.

”Bound to be, if you live close by,” and the provoking youth returned to his ”Sn.i.g.g.e.rs.”

”Do you call this attending to your master's business?” said Horace.

”Listen to me, you young rascal. I'll give you five s.h.i.+llings for it.

You're not going to be fool enough to refuse an offer like that?”

”I ain't goin' to be fool enough to refuse it--nor yet I ain't goin' to be fool enough to take it, 'cause I'm only 'ere to see as n.o.body don't come in and sneak fings. I ain't got no authority to sell anyfink, and I don't know the proice o' nuffink, so there you _'ave_ it.”

”Take the five s.h.i.+llings,” said Horace, ”and if it's too little I'll come round and settle with your master later.”

”I thought you said you wasn't likely to be porsin' again? No, mister, you don't kid me that way!”

Horace had a mad impulse to s.n.a.t.c.h up the precious bottle then and there and make off with it, and might have yielded to the temptation, with disastrous consequences, had not an elderly man entered the shop at that moment. He was bent, and wore rather more fluff and flue upon his person than most well-dressed people would consider necessary, but he came in with a certain air of authority, nevertheless.

”Mr. Dilger, sir,” piped the youth, ”'ere's a gent took a fancy to this 'ere bra.s.s pot o' yours. Says he _must_ 'ave it. Five s.h.i.+llings he'd got to, but I told him he'd 'ave to wait till you come in.”

”Quite right, my lad!” said Mr. Dilger, c.o.c.king a watery but sharp old eye at Horace. ”Five s.h.i.+llings! Ah, sir, you can't know much about these hold bra.s.s antiquities to make an orfer like that.”

”I know as much as most people,” said Horace. ”But let us say six s.h.i.+llings.”

”Couldn't be done, sir; couldn't indeed. Why, I give a pound for it myself at Christie's, as sure as I'm standin' 'ere in the presence o' my Maker, and you a sinner!” he declared impressively, if rather ambiguously.

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