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Job takes a stroll down the quay past the sweet-standings, and cocks his eye over the edge, down upon the deck of the old Pride that was moored alongside and fitting out for a fresh cruise. And there, in the shade of the quay wall, sat old Captain Jacka with a hammer, tap-tapping at a square of tinplate. "Hullo!" Mr. Job hailed. "Where's the crew?"
The sweet-standings, you see, always drew a swarm of wasps on feast-days, and the old man never could abide them since his accident with the bee-skip. Mr. Job sat there with his mouth screwed up, eyeing the whole length of the lugger. "I'd like to know why you were hammering out that tinplate?" said he.
Many vehicles came dashing down Tinplate Street: carriages, public and private, of every variety, from the rattletrap cab hired off the stand, or the decent coach from the livery stable, to the smart spick-and-span brougham, with its well-appointed horses and servants in neat livery.
In the Paris of the first half of this century there was no darker, dingier, or more forbidding quarter than that which lay north of the Rue de Rivoli, round about the great central market, commonly called the Halles. The worst part of it, perhaps, was the Rue Assiette d'Etain, or Tinplate Street.
I turn round the cracked walls of the former tinplate works, now bowed and crumbling, whose windows are felted with grime or broken into black stars. A few steps farther I think I saw the childish shadow of little Antoinette, whose bad eyes they don't seem to be curing; but not being certain enough to go and find her I turn into my court, as I do every evening.
Pelle and Young Lasse had to be off. "You are always in such a hurry!" said Marie dolefully. "I wanted to make coffee." "Yes, I've got a lot to do to-day still. Otherwise I'd gladly stay with you a bit." "Do you know you are gradually getting quite famous?" said Marie, looking at him in admiration. "The people talk almost as much about you as they do about the big tinplate manufacturer.
And what I'm going to tell you is good news, at that. I presume it IS news; or have you heard of the Tinplate melon?" It was quite evident that Galusha had not heard. Nor, hearing now, did the news convey anything to his mind. "Melon?" he repeated. "Ah melon, did you say?" "Why, yes. The Tinplate people are " It was a rather long story, and telling it took longer than the minute Mr.
Barbour, at your request, sent you a check on March 13th, for fourteen thousand three hundred and ten dollars and thirty-eight cents, the same being your share of the Tinplate reorganization profits. On March 15th, you came personally to this office and exchanged that check for five thousand dollars in cash and another check for ninety-three hundred and ten dollars and thirty-eight cents.
"Where to?" asked Pyotr before getting onto the box. "To Znamenka, the Oblonskys'." It was bright and sunny. A fine rain had been falling all the morning, and now it had not long cleared up. The iron roofs, the flags of the roads, the flints of the pavements, the wheels and leather, the brass and the tinplate of the carriages all glistened brightly in the May sunshine.
Then he'd come back modest to help his father run the zinc and tinplate trust, or something like that, and was payin' strict attention to business until he met Polly at a football game. After that he had only one aim in life, which was leadin' Polly up the middle aisle with the organ playin' that breath of Eden piece. Well, what was a fond mommer to do in a case like that?
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