“Your servant, sir,” said the landlord to the newcomer.
“We shall want the room on Monday next, Brickett,” said the clerk.
“It is at your disposal, Mr. Overton.”
Brickett now introduced Peace to the gentleman in rusty black, and made him acquainted with his occupation.
“From London, sir, I presume?”
“Yes, from London,” answered the print-seller. In expeditions of this sort he invariably gave people the idea that he had come direct from the metropolis. As a rule country folk paid greater attention to one hailing from the great city.
“Show Mr. Overton some of your goods. He be a judge of such like commodities,” said the landlord, who at all times displayed a willingness to further the interests of his customers.
Peace’s stock, or rather a considerable portion of it, was at once brought forth.
The parish clerk’s attention was directed more especially to the sacred subjects. He inquired the price of the large photo of the “Light of the World.” It was Peace’s practice to lay it on a bit, as he termed it, when he found the fish bite; and he did not neglect to do so on this occasion.
Mr. Overton had made up his mind to have the photo, but he shrugged his shoulders, and said he was a poor man.