Part 1 (2/2)
”What purse?”
”You know very well what purse--the purse what's advertised. You hand it over to me, and I'm game to pay all costs. It's mine. I lost it.”
”Describe the one you had the misfortune to lose.”
”It was a leather purse.”
”Then that is not the purse I found.”
”Shammy leather, I mean.”
”Nor is it shammy leather.”
”Covered with sealskin outside.”
”Nor is it covered with sealskin outside.”
”Just you take and let me have a look at it. I'll soon tell you if it's mine.”
”Before the purse is shown to any claimant he must satisfactorily describe it.”
”Very well; that's all about it. If it ain't mine, it ain't mine. You needn't be nasty.”
”I have no intention of being nasty.”
”Then don't be. Because a pore feller loses his purse he don't need to be trampled on. You can be pore but honest.”
With the utterance of this trite and, possibly, admirable observation the man strolled off, with his hands in his pockets. My clerical friend, who had lingered in the hall, endeavoured to take me by the b.u.t.ton-hole. He addressed me in a confidential whisper.
”Pardon me, sir, but circ.u.mstances over which I have no control have temporarily crippled my resources. Since, from motives which I understand, and which I honour, sir, you prefer to continue to be the custodian of my family property, might I with confidence ask you to oblige me with a small loan till I am able to place myself in communication with my daughter?”
”You might not.”
”I fear that I am already late for my appointment. The only way to reach it in time will be to take a cab. May I, at least, ask you to enable me to pay the fare?”
”You may not.”
He sighed.
”I believe you said you had not breakfasted? Neither, sir, have I. You will hardly believe it, but it is a positive fact that I, a clergyman, a master of arts of my university, have not tasted food for more than four-and-twenty hours. If, sir, you will suffer me, a humble stranger, to join you at your morning meal----”
”Good-day, sir.”
He sighed again. Then, putting his hand up to his mouth, he asked, in a sepulchral whisper:
”Will you lend me sixpence?”
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