"No, sir!" deliberately groaned out Peter, "I never carry such articles by choice."
"Then by chance, perhaps?" questioned the stranger.
"Nor by chance, if I can help it," screeched the crusty Peter. "I am an honest dealer in my wares."
"I presume so," returned the stranger, with his eyes roaming about the four bare walls of the cubby-hole, as if he were unwinding his thoughts preparatory to a plunge into the secrets of something hidden within his breast.
"You doubt my word, sir?" said Peter, on his dignity.
"Your veracity, I presume," calmly remarked the stranger, "is equal to the rest of men in business."
"It is, sir," answered Peter, foaming.
"Well, if you have not got what I want, I must leave your place without it," said the stranger, with a nonchalance that caused Peter to squint one of his little eyes up like a question mark.
"I am a fair dealer in all things, I am, sir," retorted Peter, "and I don't like for strangers coming about here and eyeing as if I was in league with criminals, or any other such disreputables."
"That's all right, stranger," replied the stranger, with mollifying effectiveness. "This being a junk shop, I took it to be no more than natural to find here such tools as I have indicated."