"It isn't a tax," said the Englishman. "He pays it for his house."
"But a man could buy a house," said the Andorran, "with a few payments like that."
The Englishman sighed. "Do listen to my explanation. He's got to pay it anyhow."
"Well," said the Andorran, sighing in his turn, "you must have a wicked King. But, please God, he cannot spend it all on his pleasures."
"It isn't paid to the King, God bless him," said the Englishman. "The man pays it to his landlord."
"And suppose he doesn't?" said the Andorran defiantly.
"Well, the perlice," began the Englishman, and the Andorran's face showed that he was afraid of occult powers.
"So there, you see," went on the Englishman, calculating along with rapid content, "he's only got thirteen."
The Andorran was willing to stretch a point. "Well," said he doubtfully, "I will grant him thirteen, and with thirteen pesetas a man can do well enough. His wife milks, and it does not cost much to put a little cotton on the child, and then, of course, if he is too poor to buy a bed, why there is his straw."