dollars at four years. 'You see I'll never trouble you about this,' said
Orchis, slipping it in his pocket-book, 'give yourself no further
thought, friend China Aster, than how best to invest your money. And
don't forget my hint about spermaceti. Go into that, and I'll buy all my
light of you,' with which encouraging words, he, with wonted, rattling
kindness, took leave.

"China Aster remained standing just where Orchis had left him; when,
suddenly, two elderly friends, having nothing better to do, dropped in
for a chat. The chat over, China Aster, in greasy cap and apron, ran
after Orchis, and said: 'Friend Orchis, heaven will reward you for your
good intentions, but here is your check, and now give me my note.'

"'Your honesty is a bore, China Aster,' said Orchis, not without
displeasure. 'I won't take the check from you.'

"'Then you must take it from the pavement, Orchis,' said China Aster;
and, picking up a stone, he placed the check under it on the walk.

"'China Aster,' said Orchis, inquisitively eying him, after my leaving
the candlery just now, what asses dropped in there to advise with you,
that now you hurry after me, and act so like a fool? Shouldn't wonder if
it was those two old asses that the boys nickname Old Plain Talk and Old
Prudence.'

"'Yes, it was those two, Orchis, but don't call them names.'

"'A brace of spavined old croakers. Old Plain Talk had a shrew for a
wife, and that's made him shrewish; and Old Prudence, when a boy, broke
down in an apple-stall, and that discouraged him for life. No better
sport for a knowing spark like me than to hear Old Plain Talk wheeze out
his sour old saws, while Old Prudence stands by, leaning on his staff,
wagging his frosty old pow, and chiming in at every clause.'

"'How can you speak so, friend Orchis, of those who were my father's
friends?'"

"'Save me from my friends, if those old croakers were Old Honesty's
friends. I call your father so, for every one used to. Why did they let
him go in his old age on the town? Why, China Aster, I've often heard
from my mother, the chronicler, that those two old fellows, with Old
Conscience--as the boys called the crabbed old quaker, that's dead
now--they three used to go to the poor-house when your father was there,
and get round his bed, and talk to him for all the world as Eliphaz,
Bildad, and Zophar did to poor old pauper Job. Yes, Job's comforters
were Old Plain Talk, and Old Prudence, and Old Conscience, to y