Paul the Peddler Part 23

"Will you take them or leave them?" demanded the p.a.w.nbroker, impatiently.

"You may give me the money," said Bridget; "and it's I that wonder how you can slape in your bed, when you are so hard on poor folks."

Mrs. McCarty departed with her money, and Eliakim fixed his sharp eyes on the next customer. It was a tall man, shabbily dressed, with a thin, melancholy-looking face, and the expression of one who had struggled with the world, and failed in the struggle.

"How much for this?" he asked, pointing to the violin, and speaking in a slow, deliberate tone, as if he did not feel at home in the language.

"What do you want for it?"

"Ten dollar," he answered.

"Ten dollars! You're crazy!" was the contemptuous comment of the p.a.w.nbroker.

"He is a very good violin," said the man. "If you would like to hear him," and he made a movement as if to play upon it.

"Never mind!" said Eliakim. "I haven't any time to hear it. If it were new it would be worth something; but it's old, and----"

"But you do not understand," interrupted the customer, eagerly. "It is worth much more than new. Do you see, it is by a famous maker? I would not sell him, but I am poor, and my Bettina needs bread. It hurts me very much to let him go. I will buy him back as soon as I can."

"I will give you two dollars, but I shall lose on it, unless you redeem it."

"Two dollar!" repeated the Italian. "Ocielo! it is nothing. But Bettina is at home without bread, poor little one! Will you not give three dollar?"

"Not a cent more."

"I will take it."

"There's your money and ticket."

And with these the poor Italian departed, giving one last lingering glance at his precious violin, as Eliakim took it roughly and deposited it upon a shelf behind him. But he thought of his little daughter at home, and the means of relief which he held in his hand, and a smile of joy lightened his melancholy features. The future might be dark and unpromising, but for three days, at any rate, she should not want bread.

Paul's turn came next.

"What have you got?" asked the p.a.w.nbroker.

Paul showed the ring.

Eliakim took it, and his small, beadlike eyes sparkled avariciously as he recognized the diamond, for his experience was such that he could form a tolerably correct estimate of its value. But he quickly suppressed all outward manifestations of interest, and said, indifferently, "What do you want for it?"

"I want twenty dollars," said Paul, boldly.

"Twenty dollars!" returned the p.a.w.nbroker. "That's a joke."

"No, it isn't," said Paul. "I want twenty dollars, and you can't have the ring for less."

"If you said twenty s.h.i.+llings, I might give it to you," said Eliakim; "but you must think I am a fool to give twenty dollars."

"That's cheap for a diamond ring," said Paul. "It's worth a good deal more."

The p.a.w.nbroker eyed Paul sharply. Did the boy know that it was a diamond ring? What chance was there of deceiving him as to its value? The old man, whose business made him a good judge, decided that the ring was not worth less than two hundred and fifty dollars, and if he could get it into his possession for a trifle, it would be a paying operation.

"You're mistaken, boy," he said. "It's not a diamond."

"What is it?"

"A very good imitation."

"How much is it worth?"

"I'll give you three dollars."

"That won't do. I want to raise twenty dollars, and if I can't get that, I'll keep the ring."

The p.a.w.nbroker saw that he had made a mistake. Paul was not as much in need of money as the majority of his customers. He would rather pay twenty dollars than lose the bargain, though it went against the grain to pay so much money. But after p.r.o.nouncing the stone an imitation, how could he rise much above the offer he had already made? He resolved to approach it gradually. Surveying it more closely, he said:

"It is an excellent imitation. I will give you five dollars."

Paul was not without natural shrewdness, and this sudden advance convinced him that it was, after all, a real stone. He determined to get twenty dollars or carry the ring home.

"Five dollars won't do me any good," he said. "Give me back the ring."

"Five dollars is a good deal of money," said Eliakim.

"I'd rather have the ring."

"What is your lowest price?"

"Twenty dollars."

"I'll give you eight."

"Just now you said it was worth only three," said Paul, sharply.

"It is very fine gold. It is better than I thought. Here is the money."

"You're a little too fast," said Paul, coolly. "I haven't agreed to part with the ring for eight dollars, and I don't mean to. Twenty dollars is my lowest price."

"I'll give you ten," said the old man, whose eagerness increased with Paul's indifference.

"No, you won't. Give me back the ring."

"I might give eleven, but I should lose money."

"I don't want you to lose money, and I've concluded to keep the ring,"

said Paul, rightly inferring from the old man's eagerness that the ring was much more valuable than he had at first supposed.

But the old p.a.w.nbroker was fascinated by the sparkling bauble. He could not make up his mind to give it up. By fair means or foul he must possess it. He advanced his bid to twelve, fourteen, fifteen dollars, but Paul shook his head resolutely. He had made up his mind to carry it to Ball & Black's, or some other first-cla.s.s jewelers, and ascertain whether it was a real diamond or not, and if so to obtain an estimate of its value.