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his hat with his silver-knobbed cane, and said: “Good even
to the house!”
“Thanks,” they replied, and all four spat.
The newcomer took out a paper full of tobacco and
a long clay pipe, filled it, and pounded the table with his
cane.
A barefoot girl brought him a brazier full of hot coals
and a large earthenware cruse with a pewter cover. He took
out from his vest-pocket a pair of small copper pincers,
which he used to pick up bits of coal and put them in his
pipe, drew the cruse to him, leaned back, and made himself
as comfortable as the small space would allow.
“How much do you have to pay for a paper o’ tobacco
like the one you’ve got there, master?” asked Salmand,
as he began to fill his little pipe from a sealskin pouch held
together with a red string.
“Sixpence,” said the man, adding, as if to apologize for
such extravagance, “it’s very good for the lungs, as you
might say.”
“How’s business?” Salmand went on, striking fire to
light his pipe.
“Well enough, and thank you kindly for asking, well
enough, but I’m getting old, as you might say.”
“Well,” said Rasmus Squint, “but then you’ve no need
to run after customers, since they ’re all brought to you.”
“Ay,” laughed the man, “in respect of that, it’s a good
business, and, moreover, you don’t have to talk yourself
hoarse persuading folks to buy your wares; they have to
take ’em as they come, they can’t pick and choose.”
“And they don’t want anything thrown in,” Rasmus
went on, “and don’t ask for more than what’s rightly
comin’ to ’em.”
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