Fortitude

arden that he had promised his aunt that he would go in and see his mother for a few minutes. Old Curtis, wearing the enormous sun-hat that he always had flapping about his head and his trousers tie

uld pay no attention to Peter at all, and so P

her? Did every one get old and silly like that? and, if so, what was the use of being born at all? But what happened to all his father's strength? Where did it all go to? In some curious undefined way he resented his grandfather's remarks. He could have loved and admired his

ck against the sky line. The world was so fresh and clean and strong this morning that the figure and voice of his grandfather hung unpleasantly about him and depressed him. There were so many thin

rs and whitewashed walls, a long oaken table down the middle of it, and a view over the farmyard and the sweeping fields beyond it, lost at last, in the distant purple hills. Peter was given a chair opposite the old lady, who was nearly eighty, and wore a beautiful white cap, and she woke up a

remember, and he gave us a roaring discourse many's the Sunday. Church is not what it w

pair. "I don't know how it is, boy," he said, "but they're at something diff

r thought it was wiser not to allude to the encounter. The farm was exceedingly interesting, and then there was dinner, and it was not

with me this afternoon, boy

to his feet w

afternoon-this

his basket, and he had stayed there in a little room over the shop, and things had prospered with him. The inhabitants of the place had never trusted him, but they were always interested. "Thiccy Zachary be a poor trade," they had said at first, "poor trade" signifying anything or anybody not entirely approved of-but they had hung about his shop, had bought his silks and little ornaments, and had talked to him sometimes with eyes open and mouth agape at the things that he could tell them. And then people had come from Truro and Pendragon and even Bodmin and, finally, Exeter, because they had heard of the things that he had for sale. No one knew where he found his treasures, for he was always in his shop, smiling and amiable, but sometimes gentlemen wou

he most romantic figure that he had yet encountered; to walk through the shop with its gold and its silver, its dust and its jewels, into the dark little room beyond; to hear this wonderful person talk, to meet men who lived in London, to li

ve little enough in common, but Stephen was a silent man, who liked all kinds of com

t Peter knew him too well by this time to interrupt his thoughts. He was thinking perhap

est things-and it was a great many years after this that Peter discovered that it was only the wisest people who knew how very important fools were. Zachary's shop was at the very bottom of Poppero Street, the steep and cobbled street that goes straight down to the little wooden jetty where the fishing boats lie, and you could see the sea like a square handkerchief between the houses on either side. Many of the houses in Poppero Street are built a little below the level of the p

an enormous figure in the low-roofed shop, brushed past the pale-faced youth whom Zachary now h

table and round the fire were seated four men. One of them Zachary himself, another was pleasant little Mr. Bannister, h

ought the boy with you? Excellent, excellent. Mr. Bannister and Mr. Tathero (old Moses' s

rose and shook hands with Stephen, he also shook hands with Peter as though it

e greatest curiosity. Stephen was silent, and Frosted Moses very rarely said anything at all, so that the conversation speedily became a dialogue between Zachary and the foreign gentleman, with occasional appeals to Mr. Brant for his unbiassed opinion. Peter's whole memory of the incident was vague and uncertain, although in after years he often tried very hard to recall it all to mind. He was excited by the mere atmosphere of the place, by the silver candlesticks, the dancing ladies on the walls, Zachary's blue coat, and the sense of all the wonderful things in the shop beyond. He had no instinct that it was all importan

tried to make Stephen talk, but Stephen was very silent. On the whole the conversation was dull, Peter thought, and once he nodded and was very nea

e he sat looking at the fire with his brown hands spread out o

Emilio Zanti, turned round quite quickly and said, like a sho

g, and looked embarrassed. He was also con

it that you will do when you are grown up, my boy?" and he put his fat

w-I haven't

d, "there is much time, of course. But what is the thin

ation, and both Zachary and Mr. Zanti laughed a

terwards?" s

me undefined way that they were laughing at him and t

knows a thing or two, our young friend here. Ho, yes! don't you mistake!" For a little while he could not speak for laughing

And then, suddenly, when he heard this, curious Mr. Zanti grew very grave indeed, and his eyes were very larg

don, my young friend, is the most wonderful place. In one week, if you are clever, you 'ave made thousands of pounds-thousands and thousands. Is it not so, Mr. Tan? Whe

ll and rather damp one. Then he bent even closer, still ho

d Peter, hus

dventures, you will look in a looking-glass-any looking-glass, and y

eved to hear numbers of clocks in the curiosity shop strike five o'clock. He got

ng-glasses, the face of Mr. Emilio Zanti, London streets, and Za