"But you say you haven't money enough with you, and I don't know you?"
Livingstone smiled.
"Why, man, I am worth—" He stopped short as a faint trace of seven figures appeared vaguely before his eyes. "I am worth enough to buy all this square and not feel it," he said, quickly correcting himself.
"That may be all so, but I don't know you," persisted the shopkeeper. "Do you know anybody in this part of the town?"
"Well, I know Mr. Clark. He would vouch for me, but—."
The shopkeeper turned to the child.
"Kitty, you know this gentleman, you say?"
"Yes. Oh, he's all right," said Kitty decisively. "He's my papa's employer and he gave him fifty dollars last Christmas, 'cause my papa told me so."
This munificent gift did not appear to impress Mr. Brown very much, any more than it did Livingstone, who felt himself flush.
"Business is business, you know?" said the shopkeeper,—an aphorism on which Livingstone had often acted, but had never had cited against him.