“Damaged goods, of course. The public will pay fifty per cent. more for smoky, soiled calico than they will for new. Why, he has got one man and three boys dipping rolls of goods in dirty water in the back-yard all the time. It is a little gold-mine while it lasts. I may as well go in and get a quid off him as any one else.”
So saying, the old man stepped into the shop, which was crammed with eager buyers, and in a little time sallied forth with a note in his hand.
“Would not give me less than a fiver. Said he owed me a hundred times as much. Now, that’s the sort of man I like—a man who knows where his success comes from, and does not gammon it is all his own cleverness. Come along, lads, and I’ll show you the finest sight and the finest girl in Sydney. Here we are; they call it the Golden Bar.”
CHAPTER X
THE GOLDEN BAR
The door swung behind them, and truly the young men were fairly dazzled. A spacious room, walled with mirrors, with pillars and panelling, fretwork and tracery, all of burnished gold—even the frescoed ceiling had a gilt cornice—the furniture, the ornate bar, and fairy-like shelves, all were gilt.
And the light that streamed in from the oriel roof was rose-coloured, and gave a halo of glory to the whole.
And behind the bar were three fair maidens, and behind them again the usual range of bottles and decanters.
Only for this familiar sight the lads would have taken the place for the dwelling of some genii or millionaire.
Soft Sam smiled as he saw their astonishment. It pleased him.
“Nice little crib to smoke a pipe, eh? What will you take? A bottle of Foster, my dear, and never believe me again if you are not the prettiest girl in the town! Yes, I call you the Queen of Sydney.”