And the four of 'em breed the prettiest girls—
So damme, beat that if you can!"
Finally his voice, still singing, died away in the distance. I sat before the flagon with a feeling of wonder, not unmixed with sadness. The fresh breeze dropped, and it seemed as if the little inn parlour grew dark and grey. He was a strange fellow!
It was not till the next day, in the late afternoon, when the air was already full of the golden dust that comes before the fall of the evening, that I came down Broad Street into Lyme Regis. In passing, I was attracted by a little curiosity shop. The dusty window was full of all sorts of things—red-heeled slippers, old bits of brass, quaint, twisted candlesticks, blue enamel snuffboxes, jewellery—value and rubbish being mixed in confusion together. And there right in the fore-front was an exact counterpart of my black jack! It was truly an amazing coincidence! I looked into the doorway, and saw the owner of the shop, a very old gentleman. His face was a network of wrinkles, which time so pleasantly writes on some old faces that they possess a sweetness which even youth lacks. I made up my mind to seek information from him about the flagon. He was examining a piece of china with a magnifying-glass when I entered.
"Good evening—good evening!" he said, putting down the glass, and looking up at me with a smile. "What can I show you, sir?"
The old man drew in his wrinkled lips expectingly.
"The odd black jack in your window," I said boldly.
The old man went to a corner of the window, and after much fumbling produced the black jack, which he set upon the counter. As I examined it he watched me in silence from beneath his penthouse brows. It was, indeed, a facsimile of the one I had purchased from the rustic.
