"That's five dollars you owe. Pay up—now. Quick, or the 'bus will go without me."
And then a funny little old man that looked as if he had stepped out of a Brownie book came to the other side of the gate and thrust his hand through the bars in front of Jimmieboy.
"Hear what I said?" the little old man cried out. "Five dollars—hurry up, or the 'bus'll go without me, and it gets lost every time it does and then there's a fearful row and I'm discharged."
"I haven't got five dollars," said Jimmieboy. "And, besides, if I had I wouldn't give it to you, because I don't owe it to you."
"You don't owe me five dollars?" cried the little old man angrily. "Well, I like that. Then you mean to say you are a view stealer, do you?"
"I don't know what you mean," said Jimmieboy. "I never stole anything."
"Yes you did, too," shrieked the little old man. "You just took a look through these bars, and that look doesn't belong to you. This country belongs to us. You've used our view and now you say you won't pay for it."
"Oh, I see," said Jimmieboy, who began to understand. "You charge for the view—is that it?"
"Yes," said the little old man more quietly. "We have to make a small charge to keep the view in repair, you know. There was a man here last week who spoiled one of our most beautiful bits of scenery. He looked at it so hard that it was simply used up. And another fellow, with two very sharp eyes, bored a hole through another view further along only yesterday. He gave it a quick, piercing, careless glance, and pop!—his left eye went right through it; and that's the reason we have to make people pay. Sightseers do a deal of damage."
"Well, I'm very sorry," said Jimmieboy. "I didn't know there was any charge or I wouldn't have looked."