Pisistratus (much pleased, and taking the stranger's arm).--"Come,
then."

Pisistratus and the stranger pass over Waterloo Bridge and pause before
a small house of respectable appearance. Stranger admits them both with
a latch-key, leads the way to the third story, strikes a light, and does
the honors to a small chamber, clean and orderly. Pisistratus explains
the task to be done, and opens the manuscript. The stranger draws his
chair deliberately towards the light and runs his eye rapidly over the
pages. Pisistratus trembles to see him pause before a long array of
figures and calculations. Certainly it does not look inviting; but,
pshaw! it is scarcely a part of the task, which limits itself to the
mere correction of words.

Stranger (briefly).--"There must be a mistake here--stay!--I see--" (He
turns back a few pages and corrects with rapid precision an error in a
somewhat complicated and abstruse calculation.)

Pisistratus (surprised).--"You seem a notable arithmetician."

Stranger.--"Did I not tell you that I was skilful in all games of
mingled skill and chance? It requires an arithmetical head for that: a
first-rate card-player is a financier spoilt. I am certain that you
never could find a man fortunate on the turf or at the gaining-table who
had not an excellent head for figures. Well, this French is good
enough, apparently; there are but a few idioms, here and there, that,
strictly speaking, are more English than French. But the whole is a
work scarce worth paying for!"

Pisistratus.--"The work of the head fetches a price not proportioned to