“But these old men I talk of were old bachelors.”
The old man stared at him a moment; then, whispering to the cosmopolitan: “Strange boy, this; sort of simple, ain’t he? Don’t know much, hey?”
“Not much,” said the boy, “or I wouldn’t be so ragged.”
“Why, child, what sharp ears you have!” exclaimed the old man.
“If they were duller, I would hear less ill of myself,” said the boy.
“You seem pretty wise, my lad,” said the cosmopolitan; “why don’t you sell your wisdom, and buy a coat?”
“Faith,” said the boy, “that’s what I did to-day, and this is the coat that the price of my wisdom bought. But won’t you trade? See, now, it is not the door I want to sell; I only carry the door round for a specimen, like. Look now, sir,” standing the thing up on the table, “supposing this little door is your state-room door; well,” opening it, “you go in for the night; you close your door behind you—thus. Now, is all safe?”
“I suppose so, child,” said the old man.
“Of course it is, my fine fellow,” said the cosmopolitan.
“All safe. Well. Now, about two o’clock in the morning, say, a soft-handed gentleman comes softly and tries the knob here—thus; in creeps my soft-handed gentleman; and hey, presto! how comes on the soft cash?”