"Phoo, phoo!" quoth the small stranger, "I don't want to see them. I
know nothing about 'em. Leave all to you. Only meant to have had a
piece; but, as you have brought half-a-dozen, I may as well take 'em.
'Store's no sore,' they say. There's a fifty-pound note! Reckon 'em
up, and see if there's any change."

Jeremiah stared at this unusual wholesale mode of dealing, stammered
his thanks, and observed, that the goods would not amount to half the
money.

"So much the worse," said the little gentleman. "Must see if I can't
buy something else in your line presently; but, sit down now: that's a
good fellow! I want to have some talk with you."

The bashful shopkeeper hereupon perched himself on the extreme front
edge of a chair, at a respectful distance from the table; but was told
to draw up closer by his hospitable entertainer. Then they took three
or four glasses of wine together, and gradually Jeremiah found himself
more at home, and scrupled not to reply to the odd stranger's
questions respecting his family and occupations. And so they went on
chatting till they appeared as two very old and intimate friends; for
Mr Wag was of an open, unsuspecting disposition, and talked as though
he had no objection that all the world should know all about his
affairs.

"Well, but, my dear Wag," said the stranger, "can't you tell what part
of the country your father came from?"

"No, sir, I can't," replied Jeremiah, "he died when I was about eight
years old, and the London merchant to whom he was clerk put me to
school, and after that apprenticed me to old Hicks, who lived over the
way where I do now. Well, there I served my time, and then married his
daughter, and so came in for the business when he died; but I've
increased it a pretty deal; and if I'd more capital, could make a snug
thing of it by going into the wholesale, and serving village shops
with grocery, and so on."

"Why don't you try it?" asked the little gentleman.

"It won't do unless one has got the _ready_ to go to market with,"
replied Jeremiah knowingly; "and then one must be able to give credit,
and ought to keep one's own waggon to carry out goods. No, no, it
won't do. Many a man has made bad worse by getting out of his depth;
and, as it is, thank God, I _can live_. The only thing that puzzles me
now and then is, what I shall do with all the children."

"Harkye, my worthy Wag," said the odd stranger, "I have not got any
children; so, if you'll let me pick