cho,” which the boys always find so amusing because there is something in it about “giglamps.” What there could be in any of these to draw tears, was a puzzle to me. It is true, girls like that are easily made to cry.
“Come on, Frits! Oh, yes, Frits! Go on, Frits!” So they went on, and at last Frits began. As I do not like to keep the reader in suspense, I will just say at once that at home they had opened Shawlman’s packet, and from it Frits and Mary had extracted an amount of wiseacredom and sentimentality, which afterwards brought a good deal of trouble into our home. Yet I have to admit, reader, that this book you are reading also came out of the packet, and of this fact I shall afterwards give a proper account, for it is of importance to me that I be considered as a person who loves the truth, and who looks after his business. Our firm is “Last & Co., Coffee-brokers, Laurier Canal, No. 37.”
Frits then recited a thing which was all nonsense from beginning to end. It was all disconnected. A young man was writing to his mother that he had been in love, and that the girl had married someone else—I think she was quite right—but he, in spite of this, always loved his mother. Do the last few lines I have just written seem clear to you or not! Do you consider that it should have taken much longer to say it? Well, I ate some bread and cheese, then peeled two pears, and had half finished munching a third, before Frits had done with the story. But Louise again cried, and the ladies said it was very pretty. Then Frits, who seemed to think he had done something quite grand, told us that he had found the thing in the parcel of the man who wore a shawl, and I explained to the gentlemen how it had got into my house. But I said nothing about the Greek girl, as Frits was present, and I also said nothing about Kapel-lane. Everyone considered I had done the right thing in getting rid of the man. You will see presently that there were other things also in that parcel, things of a more solid nature, and of these some will go into this book, as the Coffee-sales of the Trading Company are connected with them . . . for I live for my trade.
