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Updated: May 7, 2025
Emblem." "Now, Mr. Chalker," the bookseller repeated mildly. "What are you going to do for me?" "I got your usual notice," the old bookseller began, hesitating, "six months ago." "Of course you did. Three fifty is the amount. Three fifty, exactly." "Just so. But I am afraid I am not prepared to pay off the bill of sale. The interest, as usual, will be ready." "Of course it will.
I am, myself, an humble follower of Gautama, but I have read those precepts with profit. In the kingdom imagined by that preacher, there is no room for usurers, Mr. Chalker. Where, then, will be your kingdom? Every man must be somewhere. You must have a kingdom and a king." "This is tomfoolery!" Mr. Chalker turned red, and looked very uncomfortable. "Stick to business. Payment in full.
It is only the idle and careless who can waste time over unprofitable friendships. With most men friendship means assisting in each other's little games, so that every man must become, on occasion, bonnet, confederate, and pal, for his friend, and may expect the same kindly office for himself. If Chalker wished to keep up his old acquaintance with Joe Gallop, there must be some good reason.
Tradesmen do not lock up their savings in investments for their grandchildren, nor do they borrow small sums at ruinous interest of money-lending solicitors; nor do they give Bills of Sale. These general rules were probably known to Mr. Chalker. Yet he did not apply them to this particular case. The neglect of the General Rule, in fact, may lead the most astute of mankind into ways of foolishness.
"The goodwill won't be worth half what it ought to be, and the stock is just falling to pieces." Mr. Chalker looked about him again thoughtfully, and opened his mouth as if about to ask a question, but said nothing. He remembered, in time, that the shopman was not likely to know the amount of his master's capital or investments.
Chalker asked the proprietor. "Only about a month or so." "Ah!" Mr. Chalker proceeded to talk business, and gave no further hint of any interest in the newly-married pair. "Now, Joe," said the singer, with a freezing glance at the barmaid, "are you going to stand here all night?" Joe drank off his glass and followed his wife into the street.
Chalker whistled the low note which indicates Surprise. "That's her husband, is it? The husband of Miss Carlotta Claradine, is it? Oho! oho! Her husband! Are you sure he is her husband?" "Do you know him, then?" "Yes, I know him. What was the real name of the girl?" "Charlotte Smithers. This is her first appearance on any stage and we made up the name for her when we first put her on the posters.
Who but a madman would suppose he cares to hear it said on Sundays, that the volunteer who plays the organ in the church, and practises on summer evenings in the dark, is Mr Pecksniff's young man, eh, Tom? Who but a madman would suppose you advertised him hereabouts, much cheaper and much better than a chalker on the walls could, eh, Tom?
Chalker, surprised at this newly-developed enthusiasm for art, left him and walked up the hall, and sat down beside the chairman, whom he seemed to know. In fact, the chairman was also the proprietor of the show, and Mr. Chalker was acting for him in his professional capacity, much as he had acted for Mr. Emblem. "Who is your new singer?" he asked. "She calls herself Miss Carlotta Claradine.
Emblem was sitting in his customary place, and he was smiling. He did not look in the least like a man who had been robbed. He was smiling pleasantly and cheerfully. Mr. Chalker was also present, a man with whom no one ever smiled, and Lala Roy, solemn and dignified, and a man an unknown man who sat in the outer shop, and seemed to take no interest at all in the proceedings.
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