England -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; English fiction -- 20th century; Short stories, English
“I’ve got an aunt living down the line,” said young Banks, regarding the
dog critically, “and I owe her a birthday present. I had intended to
give about five shilling for something.”
“The dog’s yourn!” said the blacksmith promptly.
Mr. Banks carried the portmanteau off in good time for the 6.37, and the
dog, with a label bearing the address of his relative, went with him. At
the station, he made an alteration in the wording of the label, and took
the ticket for it that is furnished when a dog accompanies a passenger.
There were no other customers for the train, and he and the one porter
had an animated discussion concerning the new minister whose name was on
the plan to take up duties shortly. The train came in; the porter went
to the brake van to see to arriving luggage.
“You dear old Fuzzy!” cried the girl delightedly, as the dog with a
single bound jumped into her compartment. “Mr. Banks, how can I thank
you, and how much do I owe you?” She took charge of the portmanteau, and
opened her purse.
“You don’t owe me nothing,” replied young Banks, reddening. The engine
whistled. “But if you want to pay me, and you think your friend Captain
Stamford wouldn’t object, you might—you might jest blow me a kiss as the
train goes out!”
V—LOOSE CASH
A PRINCE OF WALES was born, and Mr. Rollinson re-christened a row of
houses which he had acquired. The original builder had gone incautiously
on a certain evening in the early part of ’41 to inspect his property—an
act nobody else thought of performing—and stumbled into one of the
numerous holes that lined the approach. His widow found herself unable
to carry on the building operations, and Mr. Rollinson, who, owing to
popular prejudice, had just given up a career on the turf and some
profitable transactions near the prize ring, offered her two hundred
pounds ready cash for the lot.
“Could you make it two fifty, Mr. Rollin-son?”
“I’ll make it three hundred, because I like your manner.”
“Oh, you dear good generous soul!” she cried.
He paid in rather greasy-looking banknotes, and, later on, married her,
and thus secured a return of the amount.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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