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Updated: May 19, 2025
They accordingly followed him up a series of creaking steps. "Everything in apple-pie order," said Mr. Boolpin. "The three boxes containing the panorama right side up with care, you see. I had them carted from the depot. Cost me a dollar. People thought they were coffins. Ha! ha!
"It's almost too cheap for fifteen dollars a night." "For what?" asked Tiffles. "For fifteen dollars," replied Mr. Boolpin, twirling his pestle playfully. "Of course, not reckoning in the one dollar that you owe me for cartage. It's too cheap. I ought to have made it twenty dollars." "Why, Mr. Persimmon, the postmaster here, engaged the hall for five dollars.
Tiffles remonstrated, entreated, suggested compromises, but all to no purpose. Boolpin was iron. The best arrangement that Tiffles could make, was to postpone the final settlement of the terms until after the performance. To that, Boolpin had not the least objection. "One thing more," said Boolpin. "If there is a row, and any seats or windows are broken, you are to pay the damages."
"Anybody can see he is a swindler by his slouched hat, and beard. Shouldn't I enjoy having a good case against him!" Pigworth, J. P., landlord of the United States Hotel, and Mr. Boolpin, proprietor, came forward with their little bills, and demanded immediate payment. This financial difficulty was arranged in one minute by the genius of Wesley Tiffles.
It was situated over a drug store, and was owned by the druggist, Mr. Boolpin, who was universally regarded as the meanest man in the village. As the three drew near the door, Mr. Boolpin, strongly smelling of aloes, and carrying a pestle in his hand, came out to greet them. He, in common with all the inhabitants, knew that the "pannyrarmer folks" were in town.
He sprang at the youth, and, but for the sudden closing of the door by the offender, who had judiciously kept a hand on the knob, would have chastised him on the spot. The door not only arrested his progress, but suddenly checked his wrath. "I'm very sorry, indeed, Professor," said he; "but Gorrifus! it makes me so mad!" Messrs. Boolpin and Persimmon laughed heartily.
Boolpin uttering a farewell caution against driving more nails in the wall than were necessary, and not to cut the floor under any circumstances and the panorama and its adherents were left alone. Mr. Boolpin had driven the uproarious boys before him with his pestle, administering smart taps to the reluctant ones.
Persimmon thought how culpably ignorant some people were of the great political movements of the day, but did not say so. Descending from politics to the subject in hand, he replied: "Oh! fifteen dollars, of course. You will find it stated in my last letter to you." Boolpin, who returned that signal of mutual understanding. Tiffles handed the letter to the postmaster, pointing out the figure 5.
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