Mr. Daniel Froud had turned
around from a high desk at which he had been writing in the gloom. How he
contrived to see in so dark a corner was a mystery which belonged to the
wider question as to the penetrating power of vision in general which he
was known to possess. The small boys of the neighbourhood declared that he
could see in the dark like a cat. He now moved a step nearer to "Cobbler"
Horn, and stood revealed, an elderly, and rather undersized, grizzled,
gnarled, and knotted man, dressed in shabby and antiquated clothes.

"Good morning, Mr. Froud," said "Cobbler" Horn, extending his hand, "I've
come to see you on a little business."

"Of course you have," was the angry retort; and taking no notice of his
visitor's proffered hand, the man stamped his foot impatiently on the
uncarpeted floor. "No one ever comes to see me about anything else but
business. And I don't want them to," he added with a grim chuckle. "Well,
let us get it done. My time is valuable, if yours is not."

"My time also is not without value," was the prompt reply. "I want to ask
you, Mr. Froud, if you will sell me the house in which I live."

If Daniel Froud was surprised, he completely concealed the fact.

"If I would sell it," was his coarse rejoinder, "you, 'Cobbler' Horn,
would not be able to buy it."

"I am well able to buy the house, Mr. Froud," was the quiet response.

Daniel Froud keenly scrutinized his visitor's face.

"I believe you think you are telling the truth," he said. "Mending
pauper's boots and shoes must be a profitable business, then?"

"I have had some money left to me," said "Cobbler" Horn.

The interest of Daniel Froud was awakened at once.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "that is it, is it? But sit down, Mr. Horn," and the
grizzled reprobate pushed towards his visitor, who had hitherto remained
standing, one of his rickety and dust-covered chairs.

"Cobbler" Horn looked doubtfully at the proffered seat, and said that he
preferred to stand.

"If you are willing to sell me the house, Mr. Froud," he said, "name your
price. It is not my intention to waste your time."

Daniel Froud still pondered. It was no longer a question whether he should
sell "Cobbler" Horn the house: he was beginning already to consider how
much he should ask for it.

"So you really wish to buy the house, Mr. Horn?" he asked.

"Such is my desire."

"And you think you can pay the price?"

"I have little doubt on that point."

"Well"--with a