panion smiled slightly and bowed to the compliment.
"I've come here begging," said Mr. Jefferson Edwards, producing a
portentous-looking roll of paper from an inner pocket. "Know I've come
to the right place for charity. The Aboriginal Evolution Society, my
dear boy. All it wants are a few hundreds to float it off. Noble aim,
Girdlestone--glorious object."
"What _is_ the object?" the merchant asked.
"Well, the evolution of the aborigines," Edwards answered in some
confusion. "Sort of practical Darwinism. Evolve 'em into higher types,
and turn 'em all white in time. Professor Wilder gave us a lecture
about it. I'll send you round a _Times_ with the account. Spoke about
their thumbs. They can't cross them over their palms, and they have
rudimentary tails, or had until they were educated off them. They wore
all the hair off their backs by leaning against trees. Marvellous
things! All they want is a little money."
"It seems to be a praiseworthy object," the merchant said gravely.
"I knew that you would think so!" cried the little philanthropist
enthusiastically. "Of course, bartering as you do with aboriginal
races, their development and evolution is a matter of the deepest
importance to you. If a man came down to barter with you who had a
rudimentary tail and couldn't bend his thumb--well, it wouldn't be
pleasant, you know. Our idea is to elevate them in the scale of
humanity and to refine their tastes. Hewett, of the Royal Society, went
to report on the matter a year or so back, and some rather painful
incident occurred. I believe Hewett met with some mishap--in fact, they
go the length of saying that he was eaten. So you see we've had our
martyrs, my dear friend, and the least that we can do who stay at home
at ease is to support a good cause to the best of our ability."
"Whose names have you got?" asked the merchant.
"Let's see," Jefferson Edwards said, unfolding his list. "Spriggs, ten;
Morton, ten; Wigglesworth, five; Hawkins, ten; Indermann, fifteen;
Jones, five; and a good many smaller amounts."
"What is the highest as yet?"
"Indermann, the tobacco importer, has given fifteen."
"It is a good cause," Mr. Girdlestone said, dipping his pen into the
ink-bottle. "'He that giveth'--you know what the good old Book says.
Of course a list of the donations will be printed and circulated?"
"Most certainly."
"Here is my cheque for twenty-five pounds. I am proud to have had this
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