"Ah, now," said the cosmopolitan, "don't, pray, say that; don't let him think that poor Laughter is persecuted for a fool in this world."
"Well," said the old man to the boy, "you must, at any rate, speak very low."
"Yes, that wouldn't be amiss, perhaps," said the cosmopolitan; "but, my fine fellow, you were about saying something to my aged friend here; what was it?"
"Oh," with a lowered voice, coolly opening and shutting his little door, "only this: when I kept a toy-stand at the fair in Cincinnati last month, I sold more than one old man a child's rattle."
"No doubt of it," said the old man. "I myself often buy such things for my little grandchildren."
"But these old men I talk of were old bachelors."
The old man stared at him a moment; then, whispering to the cosmopolitan: "Strange boy, this; sort of simple, ain't he? Don't know much, hey?"
"Not much," said the boy, "or I wouldn't be so ragged."
"Why, child, what sharp ears you have!" exclaimed the old man.
"If they were duller, I would hear less ill of myself," said the boy.
"You seem pretty wise, my lad," said the cosmopolitan; "why don't you sell your wisdom, and buy a coat?"
"Faith," said the boy, "that's what I did to-day, and this is the coat that the price of my wisdom bought.
