The things we do!

There's a theatrical touch in
most of us that makes us feel flattered at being taken for more than we
are. Then up come his wife and daughter, good, ordinary souls, and carry
all away with their kindly gossip; he's no beggar, they say; be paid for
his supper and all. And at last I turn crafty and cowardly and say never a
word, and let the man lay more to my charge and still never a word. And we
three hearty souls outwin his reasoning sense, and he has to explain he
was only jesting all the time; surely we could see that. I stayed a night
and a day there, and greased my shoes with extra care, and mended my
clothes.
But then the man begins to suspect once more. "There'll be a handsome
present for that girl of mine when you leave, I know," says he. I made as
if his words had no effect, and answered with a laugh: "You think so?"
"Yes," says he; "and then when you're gone we'll sit thinking you must
have been somebody grand, after all."
A detestable fellow this! I did the only thing I could: ignored his
sarcasm and asked for work.


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