man of his intelligence.
Hagar, however, minded neither Vark nor any one else. She advertised for the absent heir, she administered the estate, and carried on the business of the pawn-shop; living in the back-parlor meanwhile, after the penurious fashion of her late master. It had been a shock to her to learn that the heir of the old pawnbroker w as none other than Goliath, the red-haired suitor who had forced her to leave the gipsy camp. Still, her honesty would not permit her to rob him of his heritage; and she attended to his interests as though they were those of the man she loved best in the world. When Jimmy Dix, alias Goliath, appeared to claim the property, Hagar intended to deliver up all to him, and to leave the shop as poor as when she entered it. In the mean time, as the months went by and brought not the claimant, Hagar minded the shop, transacted business, and drove bargains. Also, she became the heroine of several adventures, such as the following:
During a June twilight she was summoned to the shop by a sharp rapping, and on entering she found a young man waiting to pawn a book which he held in his hand. He was tall, slim fair-haired and blue-eyed, with a clever and intellectual face, lighted by rasher dreamy eyes. Quick at reading physiognomies, Hagar liked his appearance at the first glance, and, moreover, admired his good looks.
"I--I wish to get some money on this book," said the stranger in a hesitating manner, a flush invading his fair complexion; "could you---that is, will you---" He paused in confusion, and held out the book, which Hagar took in silence.
It was an old and costly book, over which a bibliomaniac would have gloated.
The date was that of the fourteenth century the printer a famous Florentine publisher of that epoch; and the author was none other than one Dante Alighieri, a poet not unknown to fame. In short, the volume was a second edition of "La Divina Commedia," extremely rare, and worth much money. Hagar, who had learnt many things under the able tuition of Jacob, at once recognized the value of the book; but with keen business instinct--notwithstanding her prepossession concerning the young man---she began promptly to disparage it.
"I don't care for old books," she said, offering it back to him. "Why not take it to a secondhand bookseller?"
"Because I don't want to part with it. At the present moment I need money, as you can see from my appearance. Let me have five pounds on the book until I can redeem it."
Hagar, who already had noted the haggard looks of this customer, and the threadbare quality of his apparel, laid down the Dante with a bang. "I can't give five pounds," she said bluntly. "The book isn't worth it!"
"Shows how much you know of such things, my girl! It is a rare edition of a celebrated Italian poet, and it is worth over a hundred pounds."
"Really?" said Hagar, dryly. "In that case, why not sell?"
"Because I don't want to. Give me five pounds."
"No; four is all that I can advance."
"Four ten," pleaded the customer.
"Four," retorted the inexorable Hagar. "Or else---"
She pushed the book towards him with one finger. Seeing that he could get nothing more out of her, the young man sighed and relented. "Give me the four pounds," he said, gloomily. "I might have guessed that a Jewess would grind me down to the lowest."
"I am not a Jew, but a gipsy," replied Hagar, making out the ticket.
"A gipsy!" said the other, peering into her face. "And what is a Romany lass doing in this Levitical tabernacle?"
"That's my business!" retorted Hagar, curtly. "Name and address?"
"Eustace Lorn, 4: Castle Road," said the young man, giving an address near at hand. "But I say--if you are true Romany, you can talk the calo jib."
"I talk it with my kind, young man; not with the Gentiles."
"But I am a Romany Rye."
"I'm not a fool, young man! Romany Ryes don't live in cities for choice."
"Nor do gipsy girls dwell in pawn-shops, my lass!"
"Four pounds," said Hagar, taking no notice of this remark; "there it is, in gold; your ticket also--number eight hundred and twenty. You can redeem the book whenever you like, on paying six per cent. interest. Good night."
"But I say'" cried Lorn, as he slipped money and ticket into his pocket, "I want to speak to you, and---"
"Good night, sir," said Hagar, sharply, and vanished into the darkness of the shop. Lorn was annoyed by her curt manner and his sudden dismissal; but as there was no help for it, he walked out into the street.
"What a handsome girl!" was his first thought; and "What a spitfire!" was his second.
After his departure, Hagar put away the Dante, and, as it was late, shut up the shop. Then she retired to the back-parlor to eat her supper--dry bread-and-cheese with cold water--and to think over the young man. As a rule, Hagar was far too self-possessed to be impressionable; but there was something about Eustace Lorn--she had the name pat---which attracted her not a little. From the short interview she had not learnt much of his personality. He was poor, proud, rather absent-minded; and--from the fact of his yielding to her on the question of price--rather weak in character. Yet she liked his face, the kindly expression of his eyes, and the sweetness of his mouth. But after all he was only a chance customer; and--unless he returned to redeem the Dante--she might not see him again. On this thought occurring to her, Hagar called common-sense to her aid, and strove to banish the young man's image from her mind. The task was more difficult than she thought.
A week later, Lorn and his pawning of the book were recalled to her mind by a stranger who entered the shop shortly after midday. This man was short, stout, elderly and vulgar. He was much excited, and spoke badly, as Hagar noted when he laid a pawn-ticket number eight hundred and twenty on the counter.
"'Ere, girl," said he in rough tones, "gimme the book this ticket's for."
"You come from Mr. Lorn?" asked Hagar, remembering the Dante.
"Yes; he wants that book. There's the brass. Sharp, now, young woman!"
Hagar made no move to get the volume, or even to take the money. Instead of doing either, she asked a question. "Is Mr. Lorn ill, that he could not come himself?" she demanded, looking keenly at the man's coarse face.
"No; but I've bought the pawn-ticket off him. 'Ere, gimme the book!"
"I cannot at present," replied Hagar, who did not trust the looks of this man, and who wished, moreover, to see Eustace again.
"Dash yer imperance! Why not?"
"Because you did not pawn the Dante; and as it is a valuable book, I might get into trouble if I gave it into other hands than Mr. Lorn's."
"Well, I'm blest! There's the ticket!"
"So I see; but how do I know the way you became possessed of it?"
"Lorn gave it me," said the man, sulkily, "and I want the Dante!"
"I'm sorry for that," retorted Hagar, certain that all was not right, "for no one but Mr. Lorn shall get it. If he isn't ill, let him come and receive it from me."
The man swore and completely lost his temper--a fact
