Australian Tales - Setis

good customers display in these distrustful days; and after Mr. Mopus
intimated that he had bought enough, and Mr. Tabb's gentle pressure had
ceased to be operative, he escorted his customer to the front door as
affectionately as a father, and while he grasped his hand at parting,
assured him that the invoices should be quite ready and all the goods on
the drays by the following day at noon.
The last dray was loading as Mr. Mopus entered the store next day,
with cheque-book in hand, and, according to agreement, paid for onehalf
of his purchase by cheque, and the other half by bill at four months.
“Now,” said Mr. Mopus to the merchant, “I think you ought to make me
a present of something handsome for my wife, considering that I have
left you £500 this morning. Times are hard, you know. Money is scarce,
and you don't get such a customer as I am every day. Come, now, be
liberal, Mr. Linsey: give me something good to take home to Mrs.
Mopus; a blessing, as the old ladies say in my part of the country.”
“Hum — a — em — I don't see how I can do it. We have put
everything in very low, and I can't afford to — a — a — however — I'll
see — em — Mr. Tabb, fetch that parcel of shawls from the back store;
the lot marked P ses Q, you know,” said the merchant, musingly, while
he gazed at the cheque with affectionate interest. Soon Mr. Tabb returned
with the parcel, when his master selected a shawl worth a few shillings,
and handed it to Mr. Mopus, remarking as he did so, “that it was rather
against his practice — in fact, he could not afford to be generous these
times.”
“Woogh! Do you think I would take my wife such a thing as that?”
said Mr. Mopus, with excitement. “Blow it all! she hasn't come to that
yet. It might suit her servant Biddy, but — — ”
“Don't be vexed, sir,” said the merchant, with a quizzical smile. “I did
not mean to slight Mrs. Mopus in the least, and I would rather give five
hundred pounds than you should think so. Here is something handsome;
suppose I make her a present of this bill which you have just given me;
what will you say to that?”
“Give me the cheque,” said Mr. Mopus, “and I will say that you have a
becoming respect for my good lady.”
“I can't spare the cheque; but you had better take this,” said the
merchant, holding the bill for £500 before his customer's eyes.
“No, no!” said Mr. Mopus, with a roguish wink, which made Mr.
Tabb's face turn as blue as book muslin. “Ha, ha, my boy! Walker! Keep
the bill; I don't want it; give me the shawl — that is worth something.”
* * * * *
I will not further describe my interview with my friend, the
philosophical merchant; but after an hour's pleasant chat I left his office,