He murdered the Queen's English every
time he spoke, and spent his pennies on things you suck. His mother
threw two of the beans I had procured with great difficulty for them
both into the street. He picked one up and ate it--a wretched habit of
his. You see the result."
Mr. Bomford sat quite still and breathed several times before he spoke.
It was a sign with him of most intense emotion.
"Mr. Burton," he declared, "if this is true, that child is even a
greater testimony to the efficacy of your--your beans, than you
yourself."
"There is no doubt," Burton agreed, "that the change is even greater."
There was a knock at the door. Burton, with a word of excuse, crossed
the room to open it. The postman stood there with a packet. It was his
novel returned once more. He threw it on to a table in the corner and
returned to his place.
"Mr. Burton," his visitor continued, "for the first time in my
life--and I may say that I have been accustomed to public speaking and
am considered to have a fair choice of words--for the first time in my
life I confess that I find myself in trouble as to exactly how to
express myself. I want to convince you. I am myself entirely and
absolutely convinced as to the justice of the cause I plead.
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