home gorged with sponge-cakes, the original penny still in his mouth.

So notorious throughout the neighbourhood did this dishonest practice of
his become, that, after a time, the majority of the local tradespeople
refused to serve him at all. Only the exceptionally quick and
able-bodied would attempt to do business with him.

Then he took his custom further afield, into districts where his
reputation had not yet penetrated. And he would pick out shops kept by
nervous females or rheumatic old men.

They say that the love of money is the root of all evil. It seemed to
have robbed him of every shred of principle.

It robbed him of his life in the end, and that came about in this way. He
had been performing one evening in Gadbut's room, where a few of us were
sitting smoking and talking; and young Hollis, being in a generous mood,
had thrown him, as he thought, a sixpence. The dog grabbed it, and
retired under the sofa. This was an odd thing for him to do, and we
commented upon it. Suddenly a thought occurred to Hollis, and he took
out his money and began counting it.

"By Jove," he exclaimed, "I've given that little beast
half-a-sovereign--here, Tiny!"

But Tiny only backed further underneath the sofa, and no mere verbal
invitation would induce him to stir. So we adopted a more pressing plan,
and coaxed him out by the scruff of his neck.

He came, an inch at a time, growling viciously, and holding Hollis's half-