He stopped directly, and we both stared at one another fixedly. "A
halfpenny for milk!" he whined, twisting his head askew.
So that was how the wind blew. I felt in my pockets and said: "For milk,
eh? Hum-m--money's scarce these times, and I don't really know how much
you are in need of it."
"I haven't eaten a morsel since yesterday in Drammen; I haven't got a
farthing, nor have I got any work yet!"
"Are you an artisan?"
"Yes; a binder."
"A what?"
"A shoe-binder; for that matter, I can make shoes too."
"Ah, that alters the case," said I, "you wait here for some, minutes and I
shall go and get a little money for you; just a few pence."
I hurried as fast as I could down Pyle Street, where I knew of a
pawnbroker on a second-floor (one, besides, to whom I had never been
before). When I got inside the hall I hastily took off my waistcoat,
rolled it up, and put it under my arm; after which I went upstairs and
knocked at the office door. I bowed on entering, and threw the waistcoat
on the counter.
"One-and-six," said the man.
"Yes, yes, thanks," I replied. "If it weren't that it was beginning to be
a little tight for me, of course I wouldn't part with it."
I got the money and the ticket, and went back. Considering all things,
pawning that waistcoat was a capital notion. I would have money enough
over for a plentiful breakfast, and before evening my thesis on the
"Crimes of Futurity" would be ready.
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