Delightful surprises
would overwhelm him at intervals; as when--a red-letter day in
all the great stations--a gentleman in a check waistcoat makes
the double purchase of Homer's Penny Stories and The Spectator.
On those occasions, and they would be very rare, his faith in
human nature would begin to ooze away, until all at once he would
tell himself excitedly that the man was obviously an escaped
criminal in disguise, rather overdoing the part. After which he
would hand over The Winning Post and The Animals' Friend to the
pursuing detective in a sort of holy awe. What a life!
But he has other things than papers to sell. He knows who buys
those little sixpenny books of funny stories--a problem which has
often puzzled us others; he understands by now the type of man
who wants to read up a few good jokes to tell them down at old
Robinson's, where he is going for the week-end. Our bookstall
clerk doesn't wait to be asked. As soon as this gentleman
approaches, he whips out the book, dusts it, and places it before
the raconteur. He recognizes also at a glance the sort of silly
ass who is always losing his indiarubber umbrella ring. Half-way
across the station he can see him, and he hastens to get a new
card out in readiness. ("Or we would let you have seven for
sixpence, sir.") And even when one of those subtler characters
draws near, about whom it is impossible to say immediately
whether they require a fountain pen with case or the Life and
Letters, reduced to 3s.
Pages:
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97