“Say the word,” I says, and he said it—“’Lasticks!” and I took his measure, and brought out a pen, dips in my ink-bottle, and makes marks; and all the time he was precious busy rattling some printed paper about and pretending to be reading.
“Oh, Weltus,” he says all at once, just as if it struck him all at the moment, “I’m a-going to have an advance from the ’ciety.”
“Are you?” I says—“inches and a harf—’lasticks—kid tops.”
“What?” he says.
“Only my measuring,” I says, with the pen in my mouth.
“Oh!” he says, “jusso.” And then he goes on—“’Bliged to get a couple of tradesmen—’spectable tradesmen—to sign their names to the papers—just to show, you know, as I’m some one decent. You’ll be one, won’t yer?”
“One what?” I says—“bondsman?”
“Oh, no,” he says, “nothing o’ the kind; only just sign yer name. It’s me as is bound; and if anything went wrong, why, they’d come upon me, and so on, yer know. Don’t yer see?”
“No!” I says, taking off my glasses, and rubbin’ ’em on my leather apron—“No,” I says, “I can’t quite.”
“Why,” he says, “it’s five pound as I’m going to borrow; and they lends it me on my own pussonal security; but just to show as I’m the right sort, I get two ’spectable tradesmen to put down their names. Don’t yer see? I could get plenty to do it, only I don’t want every one to know. You see now, don’t you?”