ellectual
centre, for aught I knew. However, I said nothing, except that I asked
him to drive very slowly, as the things in the booths looked exceedingly
pretty.
"Yes," said he, "this is a very good market for pretty things, and is
mostly kept for the handsomer goods, as the Houses-of-Parliament market,
where they set out cabbages and turnips and such like things, along with
beer and the rougher kind of wine, is so near."
Then he looked at me curiously, and said, "Perhaps you would like to do a
little shopping, as 'tis called."
I looked at what I could see of my rough blue duds, which I had plenty of
opportunity of contrasting with the gay attire of the citizens we had
come across; and I thought that if, as seemed likely, I should presently
be shown about as a curiosity for the amusement of this most
unbusinesslike people, I should like to look a little less like a
discharged ship's purser. But in spite of all that had happened, my hand
went down into my pocket again, where to my dismay it met nothing
metallic except two rusty old keys, and I remembered that amidst our talk
in the guest-hall at Hammersmith I had taken the cash out of my pocket to
show to the pretty Annie, and had left it lying there. My face fell
fifty per cent., and Dick, beholding me, said rather sharply--
"Hilloa, Guest! what's the matter now? Is it a wasp?"
"No," said I, "but I've left it behind."
"Well," said he, "whatever you have left behind, you can get in this
market again, so don't trouble yourself about it."
I had come to my senses by this time, and remembering the astounding
customs of this country, had no mind for another lecture on social
economy and the Edwardian coinage; so I said only--
"My clothes--Couldn't I? You see--What do think could be done about
them?"
He didn't seem in the least inclined to laugh, but said quite gravely:
"O don't get new clothes yet. You see, my great-grandfather is an
antiquarian, and he will want to see you just as you are. And, you know,
I mustn't preach to you, but surely it wouldn't be right for you to take
away people's pleasure of studying your attire, by just going and making
yourself like everybody else. You feel that, don't you?" said he,
earnestly.
I did _not_ feel it my duty to set myself up for a scarecrow amidst this
beauty-loving people, but I saw I had got across some ineradicable
prejudice, and that it wouldn't do to quarrel with my new friend. So I
merely said
|