I looked at what I could see of my rough blue duds, which I had plenty of opportunity of contrasting with the gay attire of the citizens we had come across; and I thought that if, as seemed likely, I should presently be shown about as a curiosity for the amusement of this most unbusinesslike people, I should like to look a little less like a discharged ship’s purser. But in spite of all that had happened, my hand went down into my pocket again, where to my dismay it met nothing metallic except two rusty old keys, and I remembered that amidst our talk in the guest-hall at Hammersmith I had taken the cash out of my pocket to show to the pretty Annie, and had left it lying there. My face fell fifty percent, and Dick, beholding me, said rather sharply—
“Hilloa, Guest! what’s the matter now? Is it a wasp?”
“No,” said I, “but I’ve left it behind.”
“Well,” said he, “whatever you have left behind, you can get in this market again, so don’t trouble yourself about it.”
I had come to my senses by this time, and remembering the astounding customs of this country, had no mind for another lecture on social economy and the Edwardian coinage; so I said only—
“My clothes—Couldn’t I? You see—What do think could be done about them?”
He didn’t seem in the least inclined to laugh, but said quite gravely—
“O don’t get new clothes yet. You see, my great-grandfather is an antiquarian, and he will want to see you just as you are. And, you know, I mustn’t preach to you, but surely it wouldn’t be right for you to take away people’s pleasure of studying your attire, by just going and making yourself like everybody else. You feel that, don’t you?” said he, earnestly.
I did not feel it my duty to set myself up for a scarecrow amidst this beauty-loving people, but I saw I had got across some ineradicable prejudice, and that it wouldn’t do to quarrel with my new friend. So I merely said, “O certainly, certainly.”
“Well,” said he, pleasantly, “you may as well see what the inside of these booths is like; think of something you want.”
Said I, “Could I get some tobacco and a pipe?”
“Of course,” said he; “what was I thinking of, not asking you before? Well, Bob is always telling me that we nonsmokers are a selfish lot, and I’m afraid he is right. But come along; here is a place just handy.”
Therewith he drew rein and jumped down, and I followed. A very handsome woman, splendidly clad in figured silk, was slowly passing by, looking into the windows as she went. To her quoth Dick: “Maiden, would you kindly hold our horse while we go in for a little?” She nodded to us with a kind smile, and fell to patting the horse with her pretty hand.
“What a beautiful creature!” said I to Dick as we entered.
“What, old Greylocks?” said he, with a sly grin.
“No, no,” said I; “Goldylocks—the lady.”
“Well, so she is,” said he. “ ’Tis a good job there are so many of them that every Jack may have his Jill; else I fear that we should get fighting for them. Indeed,” said he, becoming very grave, “I don’t say that it does not happen even now, sometimes. For you know love is not a very reasonable thing, and perversity and self-will are commoner than some of our moralists think.” He added, in a still more sombre tone: “Yes, only a month ago there was a mishap down by us, that in the end cost the lives of two men and a woman, and, as it were, put out the sunlight for us for a while. Don’t ask me about it just now; I may tell you about it later on.”
By this time we were within the shop or booth, which had a counter, and shelves on the walls, all very neat, though without any pretence of showiness, but otherwise not very different to what I had been used to. Within were a couple of children—a brown-skinned boy of about twelve, who sat reading a book, and a pretty little girl of about a year older, who was sitting also reading behind the counter; they were obviously brother and sister.
“Good morning, little neighbours,” said Dick. “My friend here wants tobacco and a pipe; can you help him?”
“O yes, certainly,” said the girl with a sort of demure alertness which was somewhat amusing. The boy looked up, and fell to staring at my outlandish attire, but presently reddened and turned his head, as if he knew that he was not behaving prettily.
“Dear neighbour,” said the girl, with the most solemn countenance of a child playing at keeping shop, “what tobacco is it you would like?”
“Latakia,” quoth I, feeling as if I were assisting at a child’s game, and wondering whether I should get anything but make-believe.
But the girl took a dainty little basket from a shelf beside her, went to a jar, and took out a lot of tobacco and put the filled basket down on the counter before me, where I could both smell and see that it was excellent Latakia.
“But you haven’t weighed it,” said I, “and—and how much am I to take?”
“Why,” she said, “I advise you to cram your bag, because you may be going where you can’t get Latakia. Where is your bag?”
I fumbled about, and at last pulled out my piece of cotton print which does duty with me for a tobacco pouch. But the girl looked at it with some disdain, and said—
“Dear neighbour, I can give you something much better than that cotton rag.” And she tripped up the shop and came back presently, and as she passed the boy whispered something in his ear, and he nodded and got up and went out. The girl held up in her finger and thumb a red morocco bag, gaily embroidered, and
