, the gooseherd, by a masterpiece of profound and subtle emphasis,
contrived to express the fact that he existed in a world of dead
illusions, that he had become a convert to Schopenhauer, and that Mr.
Curtenty's inapposite geniality was a final grievance to him.

'There ain't no business!' he added.

'Ah!' returned Mr. Curtenty, thoughtful: such an assertion of the entire
absence of business was a reflection upon the town.

'Sithee!' said the gooseherd in ruthless accents, 'I druv these 'ere
geese into this 'ere town this morning.' (Here he exaggerated the
number of miles traversed.) 'Twelve geese and two gander--a Brent and a
Barnacle. And how many is there now? How many?'

'Fourteen,' said Mr. Gordon, having counted; and Mr. Curtenty gazed at
him in reproach, for that he, a Town Councillor, had thus mathematically
demonstrated the commercial decadence of Bursley.

'Market overstocked, eh?' Mr. Curtenty suggested, throwing a side-glance
at Callear the poulterer's close by, which was crammed with everything
that flew, swam, or waddled.

'Call this a market?' said the gooseherd. 'I'st tak' my lot over to
Hanbridge, wheer there _is_ a bit doing, by all accounts.'

Now, Mr. Curtenty had not the least intention of buying those geese, but
nothing could be better calculated to straighten the back of a Bursley
man than a reference to the mercantile activity of Hanbridge, that
Chicago of the Five Towns.

'How much for the lot?' he inquired.

In that moment he reflected upon his reputation; he knew that he was a
cure, a card, a character; he knew that everyone would think it just
like Jos Curtenty, the renowned Deputy-Mayor of Bursley, to stand on
the steps of the Tiger and pretend to chaffer with a gooseherd for a
flock of geese. His imagination caught the sound of an oft-repeated
inquiry, 'Did ye hear about old Jos's latest--trying to buy them there
geese?' and the appreciative laughter that would follow.

The gooseherd faced him in silence.

'Well,' said Mr. Curtenty again, his eyes twinkling, 'how much for the
lot?'

The gooseherd gloomily and suspiciously named a sum.

Mr. Curtenty named a sum startlingly less, ending in sixpence.

'I'll tak' it,' said the gooseherd, in a tone that closed on the bargain
like a vice.

The Deputy-Mayor perceived himself the owner of twelve geese and two
ganders--one Brent, one Barnacle. It was a shock, but he sustained it.
Involuntarily he looked at Mr. Gordon.

'How are