t have been emblematical of either
astonishment or delight.

"'Don't drop that inkstand,' I said. 'I'm very fond of that.'

"'Drop it!' almost shouted Murkel, 'drop it! Great Scott, do you know
_what_ it is?'

"'Yes,' I said, 'of course, it's an ink-stand.'

"Murkel looked at me almost pityingly. 'Oh, my great aunt,' he said,
'the ways of writers are beyond understanding. Here's one who lives in
a garret, probably hasn't enough to eat, and upon a rickety
three-legged writing-table, which would be a disgrace to a fifth-rate
coffee-house, he has a jewel worth a hundred guineas and more.'

"'Bosh! you're joking,' I retorted.

"Murkel gave a queer smile. 'Am I?' he said. 'Well, I am prepared to
go back to my place and write you a cheque for a hundred guineas for
this, now on the spot.'

"I suppose I still continued to stare at him stupidly, and most likely
the signs of my utter disbelief were plainly to be seen in my
countenance, for Murkel continued hurriedly--

"'It's my business, I never make a mistake. This inkstand is Old Bow
china, date--early Queen Anne. My friend, there are not five of these
left in the world to-day, there are not four, and this is probably the
most perfect one in existence; and what makes it so valuable, apart
from its glaze, is that it was done by a fine artist, and it is a
famous legendary figure perfectly executed. In fact, it is none other
than the famous Dick Whittington.'

"'What!' It was my turn to shout this time. 'Dick Whittington!' I
cried.

"'Of course,' said Murkel; 'Dick Whittington, only done in the costume
of Queen Anne's day instead of his own.'

"'Then it is all true,' I shouted. 'By Jove, what a fool I've been; I
see it all now, every bit of it. Oh, Lal! Lal! how impossible you are
to understand.' Of course, this was all so much Greek to Murkel, who
hadn't the remotest idea what I was so excited about; but he was
thoroughly convinced that I meant to jump at his offer, and he thought
I was merely madder than usual when I told him that I wouldn't sell
Dick Whittington for five thousand pounds if he offered it to me.

"Murkel replaced Dick Whittington regretfully upon the rickety table
and sighed deeply.

"'I suppose,' he said, 'that some forms of mental derangement are
inseparable from some writers. The annoying part of it is that I
wanted this piece for my own cabinet. If I had bought it I should
never have sold it again. Well, if you want money,