- end_line
- 926
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.838Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 874
- text
- “How much will you give?” whispered the other in reply, leaning over,
and looking as if he wanted to hush up the pawnbroker.
At last the sum was agreed upon, when the man behind the counter took a
little ticket, and tying the ring to it began to write on the ticket;
all at once he asked the young man where he lived, a question which
embarrassed him very much; but at last he stammered out a certain
number in Broadway.
“That’s the City Hotel: you don’t live there,” said the man, cruelly
glancing at the shabby coat before him.
“Oh! well,” stammered the other blushing scarlet, “I thought this was
only a sort of form to go through; I don’t like to tell where I do
live, for I ain’t in the habit of going to pawnbrokers.”
“You stole that ring, you know you did,” roared out the hook-nosed man,
incensed at this slur upon his calling, and now seemingly bent on
damaging the young man’s character for life. “I’m a good mind to call a
constable; we don’t take stolen goods here, I tell you.”
All eyes were now fixed suspiciously upon this martyrized young man;
who looked ready to drop into the earth; and a poor woman in a
night-cap, with some baby-clothes in her hand, looked fearfully at the
pawnbroker, as if dreading to encounter such a terrible pattern of
integrity. At last the young man sunk off with his money, and looking
out of the window, I saw him go round the corner so sharply that he
knocked his elbow against the wall.
I waited a little longer, and saw several more served; and having
remarked that the hook-nosed men invariably fixed their own price upon
every thing, and if that was refused told the person to be off with
himself; I concluded that it would be of no use to try and get more
from them than they had offered; especially when I saw that they had a
great many fowling-pieces hanging up, and did not have particular
occasion for mine; and more than that, they must be very well off and
rich, to treat people so cavalierly.
My best plan then seemed to be to go right back to the curly-headed
pawnbroker, and take up with my first offer. But when I went back, the
curly-headed man was very busy about something else, and kept me
waiting a long time; at last I got a chance and told him I would take
the three dollars he had offered.
“Ought to have taken it when you could get it,” he replied. “I won’t
give but two dollars and a half for it now.”
In vain I expostulated; he was not to be moved, so I pocketed the money
and departed.
- title
- Chunk 3