Tyo WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. [ru

 

the strange old piece of furniture the technical name
of which I am utterly unable to give, was put up by
the auctioneer, it attracted but very little attention.
It was made of oak, had strange knobs of brass
about it where you would least have expected them,
and it stood upon four large wooden claws by way of
feet. It opened towards you, and thus formed a flat
desk at which you could write, with large drawers
below, whilst the upper part opposite you as you sat
writing was a combination of drawers and pigeon-
holes more easy to be imagined than described.

I don’t know what possessed old Simon Ricketts
with an idea that he should like to become the owner
of this strange piece of furniture: nevertheless he had
the idea, and eventually, as will be seen, he had the
furniture too. Simon Ricketts was a milkman ina
large way of business, and as honest as milkmen
usually are. He never watered his milk when he
could supply his customers all round without it,
though as his customers were many, and his supply of
milk limited, he felt himself occasionally bound to
strain his conscience rather than disappoint his friends.
He paid his debts when he had money to do so, and
sought credit when he hadn’t. The latter, however,
was not his ordinary condition, for close attention to
business and a thrifty habit of life had enabled Simon
to save a little capital, and he was beginning to feel
rather above the world. Still, he had no idea of
giving up his trade, at which he still laboured, though
he allowed himself somewhat more holidays than when
his means were smaller and his labours necessarily
greater.