on arrange that little matter of business, eh?
You understand? Good-by! good-by!" and shaking Titmouse cordially by the
hand, Tag-rag took his departure. As he hurried on to his shop, he felt
in a most painful perplexity about this loan of five pounds. It was
truly like squeezing five drops of blood out of his heart. But what was
to be done? Could he offend Titmouse? Where was he to stop, if he once
began? Dare he ask for security? Suppose the whole affair should after
all turn into smoke?

Now, consider the folly of Tag-rag. Here was he in all this terrible
pucker about advancing _five pounds_ on the strength of prospects and
chances which he had deemed safe for adventuring _his daughter_
upon--her, the only object on earth, except money, that he regarded with
anything like sincere affection. How was this? The splendor of the
future possible good fortune of his daughter, might, perhaps, have
dazzled and confused his perceptions. Then, again, _that_ was a _remote_
contingent venture; but this sudden appeal to his pocket--the demand of
an immediate outlay and venture--was an instant pressure, and he felt it
severely. Immediate profit was everything to Tag-rag--'twas his very
life's blood! He was, in truth, a _tradesman to his heart's core_. If he
could have seen the immediate _quid pro quo_, or could, at all events,
have got, if only by way of earnest, as it were, a bit of poor
Titmouse's heart, and locked it up in his desk, he would not have cared
so much; it would have been a little in his line;--but here was a
FIVE-POUND NOTE going out forthwith, and nothing immediate, visible,
palpable, replacing it. Oh! Titmouse had unconsciously pulled Tag-rag's
very heart-strings!

Observe, discriminating reader, that there is all the difference in the
world between a TRADESMAN and a MERCHANT; and, moreover, that it is not
every _tradesman_ that is a Tag-rag.

All these considerations combined to keep Tag-rag in a perfect fever of
doubt and anxiety, which several hearty curses (I regret to say) failed
in effectually relieving. By the time, however, that Titmouse had made
his appearance at Mr. Tag-rag's shop, with a sufficiently sheepish air,
and was beginning to run the gantlet of grinning contempt from the
"_gents_" on each side of the shop, Tag-rag had determined on the course
he should pursue in the very embarrassing matter above referred to. To
the inexpressible amazement of all present, he bolted out of a little
counting-h