第12章 ON BEING HARD UP(3)

One becomes used to being hard up, as one becomes used to everything else, by the help of that wonderful old homeopathic doctor, Time.You can tell at a glance the difference between the old hand and the novice; between the case-hardened man who has been used to shift and struggle for years and the poor devil of a beginner striving to hide his misery, and in a constant agony of fear lest he should be found out.Nothing shows this difference more clearly than the way in which each will pawn his watch.As the poet says somewhere: "True ease in pawning comes from art, not chance." The one goes into his "uncle's" with as much composure as he would into his tailor's--very likely with more.The assistant is even civil and attends to him at once, to the great indignationof the lady in the next box, who, however, sarcastically observes that she don't mind being kept waiting "if it is a regular customer." Why, from the pleasant and businesslike manner in which the transaction is carried out, it might be a large purchase in the three per cents.Yet what a piece of work a man makes of his first "pop." A boy popping his first question is confidence itself compared with him.He hangs about outside the shop until he has succeeded in attracting the attention of all the loafers in the neighborhood and has aroused strong suspicions in the mind of the policeman on the beat.At last, after a careful examination of the contents of the windows, made for the purpose of impressing the bystanders with the notion that he is going in to purchase a diamond bracelet or some such trifle, he enters, trying to do so with a careless swagger, and giving himself really the air of a member of the swell mob.When inside he speaks in so low a voice as to be perfectly inaudible, and has to say it all over again.When, in the course of his rambling conversation about a "friend" of his, the word "lend" is reached, he is promptly told to go up the court on the right and take the first door round the corner.He comes out of the shop with a face that you could easily light a cigarette at, and firmly under the impression that the whole population of the district is watching him.When he does get to the right place he has forgotten his name and address and is in a general condition of hopeless imbecility.Asked in a severe tone how he came by "this," he stammers and contradicts himself, and it is only a miracle if he does not confess to having stolen it that very day.He is thereupon informed that they don't want anything to do with his sort, and that he had better get out of this as quickly as possible, which he does, recollecting nothing more until he finds himself three miles off, without the slightest knowledge how he got there.

By the way, how awkward it is, though, having to depend on public- houses and churches for the time.The former are generally too fast and the latter too slow.Besides which, your efforts to get a glimpse of the public house clock from the outside are attended with great difficulties.If you gently push the swing-door ajar and peer in you draw upon yourself the contemptuous looks of the barmaid, who at once puts you down in the same category with area sneaks and cadgers.You also create a certainamount of agitation among the married portion of the customers.You don't see the clock because it is behind the door; and in trying to withdraw quietly you jam your head.The only other method is to jump up and down outside the window.After this latter proceeding, however, if you do not bring out a banjo and commence to sing, the youthful inhabitants of the neighborhood, who have gathered round in expectation, become disappointed.

I should like to know, too, by what mysterious law of nature it is that before you have left your watch "to be repaired" half an hour, some one is sure to stop you in the street and conspicuously ask you the time.Nobody even feels the slightest curiosity on the subject when you've got it on.

Dear old ladies and gentlemen who know nothing about being hard up--and may they never, bless their gray old heads--look upon the pawn-shop as the last stage of degradation; but those who know it better (and my readers have no doubt, noticed this themselves) are often surprised, like the little boy who dreamed he went to heaven, at meeting so many people there that they never expected to see.For my part, I think it a much more independent course than borrowing from friends, and I always try to impress this upon those of my acquaintance who incline toward "wanting a couple of pounds till the day after to-morrow." But they won't all see it.One of them once remarked that he objected to the principle of the thing.I fancy if he had said it was the interest that he objected to he would have been nearer the truth: twenty-five per cent.certainly does come heavy.

There are degrees in being hard up.We are all hard up, more or less-- most of us more.Some are hard up for a thousand pounds; some for a shilling.Just at this moment I am hard up myself for a fiver.I only want it for a day or two.I should be certain of paying it back within a week at the outside, and if any lady or gentleman among my readers would kindly lend it me, I should be very much obliged indeed.They could send it to me under cover to Messrs.Field & Tuer, only, in such case, please let the envelope be carefully sealed.I would give you my I.O.U.as security.