It was just such a boy as this who came to my notice some years ago, and one day I saw him arrested by the police and conveyed to the Caracol (police station). Upon making inquiries I was informed that he had been taken up for annoying people by pestering them to buy scarabs. Later in the day I saw him leaning disconsolately against a wall outside the Caracol.
“Well, how much have you to pay?” I asked.
“Fifteen piastres” (about three shillings), was his reply. “Or”—and he shrugged his shoulders—“or I stay three days in prison.”
“Have you paid the money?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I have none.”
Now this was untrue, for, otherwise, how could he give change to purchasers?—and these boys will rarely risk losing a sale for the want of change. This I pointed out to him, and spoke of the shame, but he shook his head obstinately. Prison has no taint for these men, it is merely an incident in the day’s work. On the following morning, when he was to surrender, I saw him again, his pockets no longer bulging, his clothes clean washed, his cloak brushed, and wearing his new red slippers. He was going to prison.
Calling him to me, I handed over the amount of the fine, saying, “Go and pay it at once and get to work again.” The boy looked sullenly at the three shillings; it was a lot of money to give to the prison authorities, and that was not the way to get rich. Then he saluted and walked away.
After three days he returned and asked to see me. Solemnly he produced a piece of dirty rag, untied it, and handed me back the three shillings.