Patsy then ran to a pawnbroker's shop, before the window of which he had often stood and studied the "unredeemed pledges" there displayed.
The pawnbroker, whose Sabbath was the seventh day, sat in the open door, smoking a pipe.
"How much for a spy glass?" said Patsy, as soon as he could get his breath.
"Come inside," said the pawnbroker. "This one I shall sell you for five dollars—very cheap." And he handed Patsy an old binocular, which really had very powerful glasses, though the tubes were much battered.
Patsy pointed it out of the door, and looked through it.
"Oh, Moses!" said he, as a dog larger than an elephant ran across the field of vision.
"Sir?" said the pawnbroker.
"I can't buy it," said Patsy, with a sigh, laying it upon the counter.
"Why not?" said the pawnbroker.
"I haven't enough money," said Patsy.