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Updated: May 7, 2025
The first was the principal bookstall clerk, who was folding with extraordinary rapidity copies of the special edition of the Staffordshire Signal; the second was Mr Sandbach, an earthenware manufacturer, famous throughout the Five Towns for his ingenious invention of teapots that will pour the tea into the cup instead of all over the table; and a very shabby man, whom Mr Sandbach did not know.
At five I was up to take the coach to Manchester. At Manchester I carried a heavy pack two miles to the railway station. I went by train to Sandbach, then walked about twenty-three miles to Longton, carrying my carpet bag, and some thirty pounds weight of books, on my shoulder. It was a hot day in June.
"There was no practical joke about it at all," Mr Sandbach protested. "If the half-sovereign has disappeared it's not my fault. I made a bet with you, and I've lost it. Here's your half-crown." He produced two-and-six, which Mr Gale accepted, though he had a strange impulse to decline it with an air of offended pride. "I'm still seven-and-six out," said Mr Gale.
"And if you are!" snapped Mr Sandbach, "you thought you'd do me down by a trick. Offering the man ten shillings to go wasn't at all a fair way of winning the bet, and you knew it, my boy. However, I've paid up; so that's all right." "All I say is," Mr Gale obstinately repeated, "if this is your notion of a practical joke " "Didn't I tell you " Mr Sandbach became icily furious.
"Not a profitable afternoon," said Mr Sandbach, as the train came in and they parted. "I think we ought to share the loss equally," said Mr Gale. "Do you?" said Mr Sandbach. "That's like you." I was just going into my tailor's in Sackville Street, when who should be coming out of the same establishment but Mrs Ellis!
For there was no sign of half-a-sovereign under the feet of the shabby man. There was not even nine and elevenpence there. Mr Gale looked up very angry and Mr Sandbach looked very foolish. "This is all very well," Mr Gale exploded in tones low and fierce. "But I call it a swindle."
Mr Sandbach was sticking close to Mr Gale, and Mr Gale was following in the leisurely footsteps of the very shabby man, possibly debating within himself whether he should boldly demand the return of his half-sovereign, when lo! a golden coin seemed to slip from the boot of the very shabby man.
All that was required to make their relations artistically complete was an official referee for counting the scores. Such a basis of friendship may seem bizarre, but it is by no means uncommon in the Five Towns, and perhaps elsewhere. So that when Mr Sandbach defied Mr Gale to induce the shabby man to move from where he stood, the nostrils of the combatants twitched with the scent of battle.
He didn't notice that I was after it too. So I drew back. I thought I'd wait and see what happens." "He looks as if he could do with half-a-sovereign," said Mr Gale. "Yes; he's only a station loafer." "Then why doesn't he pick up his half-sovereign and hook it?" "Can't you see why?" said Mr Sandbach, patronizingly. "He's afraid of the bookstall clerk catching him at it.
It was a great triumph for Mr Sandbach. "I told you you wouldn't get him to move!" said Mr Sandbach, proudly, having rejoined his friend at another part of the platform. "What's the game?" demanded Mr Gale, frankly acknowledging by tone and gesture that he was defeated. "Perfectly simple," answered Mr Sandbach, condescendingly, "when you know. I'll tell you it's really very funny.
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