“Well, and is——”
“Stay. But then it adds, that sign is not always to be relied on; for some good bills get so worn, the red marks get rubbed out. And that’s the case with my bill here—see how old it is—or else it’s a counterfeit, or else—I don’t see right—or else—dear, dear me—I don’t know what else to think.”
“What a peck of trouble that Detector makes for you now; believe me, the bill is good; don’t be so distrustful. Proves what I’ve always thought, that much of the want of confidence, in these days, is owing to these Counterfeit Detectors you see on every desk and counter. Puts people up to suspecting good bills. Throw it away, I beg, if only because of the trouble it breeds you.”
“No; it’s troublesome, but I think I’ll keep it.—Stay, now, here’s another sign. It says that, if the bill is good, it must have in one corner, mixed in with the vignette, the figure of a goose, very small, indeed, all but microscopic; and, for added precaution, like the figure of Napoleon outlined by the tree, not observable, even if magnified, unless the attention is directed to it. Now, pore over it as I will, I can’t see this goose.”
“Can’t see the goose? why, I can; and a famous goose it is. There” (reaching over and pointing to a spot in the vignette).
“I don’t see it—dear me—I don’t see the goose. Is it a real goose?”
“A perfect goose; beautiful goose.”
“Dear, dear, I don’t see it.”
“Then throw that Detector away, I say again; it only makes you purblind; don’t you see what a wild-goose chase it has led you? The bill is good. Throw the Detector away.”
“No; it ain’t so satisfactory as I thought for, but I must examine this other bill.”