"Oh, a pocket-book. Queer looking pocket-books though, seems to me. Ain't they rather long and narrow for pocket-books?"
"They go round the waist, sir, inside," said the boy "door open or locked, wide awake on your feet or fast asleep in your chair, impossible to be robbed with a money-belt."
"I see, I see. It would, be hard to rob one's money-belt. And I was told to-day the Mississippi is a bad river for pick-pockets. How much are they ?"
"Only fifty cents, sir."
"I'll take one. There!"
"Thank-ee. And now there's a present for ye," with which, drawing from his breast a batch of little papers, he threw one before the old man, who, looking at it, read "Counterfeit Detector."
"Very good thing," said the boy, "I give it to all my customers who trade seventy-five cents' worth; best present can be made them. Sell you a money-belt, sir?" turning to the cosmopolitan.
"Excuse me, my fine fellow, but I never use that sort of thing; my money I carry loose."
"Loose bait ain't bad," said the boy, "look a lie and find the truth; don't care about a Counterfeit Detector, do ye? or is the wind East, d'ye think?"
"Child," said the old man in some concern, "you mustn't sit up any longer, it affects your mind; there, go away, go to bed."
"If I had some people's brains to lie on, I would," said the boy, "but planks is hard, you know."
