“You won’t say more, I see,” said Fledgeby, looking at him as if he would like to try the effect of extracting a double-tooth or two, “and so it’s of no use my putting it to you. But confess this, Riah; who believes you to be poor now?”

“No one,” said the old man.

“There you’re right,” assented Fledgeby.

“No one,” repeated the old man with a grave slow wave of his head. “All scout it as a fable. Were I to say ‘This little fancy business is not mine’ ”; with a lithe sweep of his easily-turning hand around him, to comprehend the various objects on the shelves; “ ‘it is the little business of a Christian young gentleman who places me, his servant, in trust and charge here, and to whom I am accountable for every single bead,’ they would laugh. When, in the larger money-business, I tell the borrowers⁠—”