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The Choir Invisible

Page 43

Peter deigned no reply; but walking forward, he clapped down on the oak slab

a round handful of shillings and pence. "Count it, and see if it's all

there," he said, taking a short cob pipe out of his mouth and planting his

other hand stoutly on his hip.

"What's this for?" O'Bannon spoke in a tone of wounded astonishment.

"What do you suppose it's for? Didn't I hear you've been out collecting?"

"Well, you have had an advertisement running in the paper for some time."

"That's what it's for then! And what's more, I've got the money to pay for a

better one, whenever you'll write it."

"Sit down, sit down, sit down!" O'Bannon jumped from his chair, hurried

across the room--a little unsteadily--emptied a pile of things on the floor,

and dragged back a heavy oak stool. "Sit down. And Peter?" he added

inquiringly, tapping his empty drinking-cup.

Peter nodded his willingness. O'Bannoli drew a key from his pocket and shook

it temptingly under Peter's nose. Then he bolted the door and unlocked the

cupboard, displaying a shelf filled with bottles.

"All for advertisements!" he said, waving his hand at the collection. "And a

joke on Mr. Bradford. Fourth-proof French brandy, Jamaica rum, Holland gin,

cherry bounce, Martinique cordial, Madeira, port, sherry, cider. All for

advertisements! Two or three of these dealers have been running bills up,

and to-day I stepped in and told them we'd submit to be paid in merchandise

of this kind. And here's the merchandise. What brand of merchandise will

you take?"

"We had better take what you have been taking."

"As you please." He brought forward another drinking-cup and a bottle.

"Hold on!" cried Peter, laying a hand on his arm. "My advertisement first!"

"As you please."

"About twice as long as the other one," instructed Peter.

"As you please." O'Bannon set the bottle down, took up a goose-quill, and

drew a sheet of paper before him.

"My business is increasing," prompted Peter still further, with a puzzled

look as to what should come next. "Put that in!"

"Of course," said O'Bannon. "I always put that in."

He was thinking impatiently about the ball and he wrote out something

quickly and read it aloud with a thick, unsteady utterance: "'Mr. Peter Springle continues to carry on the blacksmith business opposite

the Sign of the Indian Queen. Mr. Springle cannot be rivalled in his shoeing

of horses. He keeps on hand a constant supply of axes, chains, and hoes,

which he will sell at prices usually asked--'"

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