ating that it was a
pawnbroker's shop.

Entering, they found themselves in a small apartment, about twelve feet
front by twenty in depth, completely filled with pawnable articles in
great variety a large part, however, consisting of clothing; for when
the poor have occasion to raise money at a pawnbroker's, they generally
find little in their possession to pawn except their clothing. Here was
a shawls pawned for a few shillings by a poor woman whose intemperate
husband threw the burden of supporting two young children upon her.
Next to it was a black coat belonging to a clerk, who had been out of
employment for three months, and now was out of money also. Here was a
child's dress, pawned by the mother in dire necessity to save the
child from starving. There was a plain gold ring, snatched by a drunken
husband from the finger of his poor wife, not to buy food, but to
gratify his insatiable craving for drink.

Over this scene of confusion presided a little old man with blear eyes
and wrinkled face, but with a sharp glance, fully alive to his own
interests. He was an Englishman born, but he had been forty years
in America. He will be remembered by those who have read "Paul the
Peddler." Though nearly as poverty-stricken in appearance as his poorest
customers, the old man was rich, if reports were true. His business was
a very profitable one, allowing the most exorbitant rates of interest,
and, being a miser, he spent almost nothing on himself, so that his
hoards had increased to a considerable amount.

He looked up sharply, as Paul and Phil entered, and scanned them closely
with his ferret-like eyes.

CHAPTER XVI

THE FASHIONABLE PARTY

Eliakim Henderson, for this was the pawnbroker's name, did not remember
Paul, though on one occasion our hero had called upon him. Nearly
all his customers came to pawn articles, not to purchase, and Eliakim
naturally supposed that the two boys had come on this errand. Before
entering, Paul said to Phil, "Don't say anything; leave me to manage."

As they entered, Phil espied a fiddle hanging up behind the counter,
and he saw at a glance that it was better than the one he had been
accustomed to play upon. But to his surprise, Paul did not refer to it
at first.

"What will you give me on this coat?" asked Paul, indicating the one he
had on.

He had no intention of selling it, but preferred to come to the fiddle
gradually, that the pawnbroker might not think that was his main o