The £1,000,000 bank-note, and other new storiesTwain, Mark
General
The £1,000,000 bank-note, and other new stories
Twain, Mark
American essays -- 19th century; American fiction -- 19th century; Humorous stories, American
I got to thinking a good deal about that situation. My hopes began to
rise high. Without doubt the salary would be large. It would begin in a
month; after that I should be all right. Pretty soon I was feeling
first-rate. By this time I was tramping the streets again. The sight of
a tailor-shop gave me a sharp longing to shed my rags, and to clothe
myself decently once more. Could I afford it? No; I had nothing in the
world but a million pounds. So I forced myself to go on by. But soon I
was drifting back again. The temptation persecuted me cruelly. I must
have passed that shop back and forth six times during that manful
struggle. At last I gave in; I had to. I asked if they had a misfit suit
that had been thrown on their hands. The fellow I spoke to nodded his
head towards another fellow, and gave me no answer. I went to the
indicated fellow, and he indicated another fellow with _his_ head, and
no words. I went to him, and he said:
‘’Tend to you presently.’
I waited till he was done with what he was at, then he took me into a
back room, and overhauled a pile of rejected suits, and selected the
rattiest one for me. I put it on. It didn’t fit, and wasn’t in any way
attractive, but it was new, and I was anxious to have it; so I didn’t
find any fault, but said with some diffidence:
‘It would be an accommodation to me if you could wait some days for the
money. I haven’t any small change about me.’
The fellow worked up a most sarcastic expression of countenance, and
said:
‘Oh, you haven’t? Well, of course, I didn’t expect it. I’d only expect
gentlemen like you to carry large change.’
I was nettled, and said:
‘My friend, you shouldn’t judge a stranger always by the clothes he
wears. I am quite able to pay for this suit; I simply didn’t wish to put
you to the trouble of changing a large note.’
He modified his style a little at that, and said, though still with
something of an air:
‘I didn’t mean any particular harm, but as long as rebukes are going, I
might say it wasn’t quite your affair to jump to the conclusion that we
couldn’t change any note that you might happen to be carrying around. On
the contrary, we _can_.’
I handed the note to him, and said:
‘Oh, very well; I apologise.’
He received it with a smile, one of those large smiles which goes all
around over, and has folds in it, and wrinkles, and spirals, and looks
like the place where you have thrown a brick in a pond; and then in the
act of his taking a glimpse of the bill this smile froze solid, and
turned yellow, and looked like those wavy, wormy spreads of lava which
you find hardened on little levels on the side of Vesuvius. I never
before saw a smile caught like that, and perpetuated. The man stood
there holding the bill, and looking like that, and the proprietor
hustled up to see what was the matter, and said briskly:
‘Well, what’s up? what’s the trouble? what’s wanting?’
I said, ‘There isn’t any trouble. I’m waiting for my change.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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