Merely the fact that the dirty piece of paper that wrapped the old
man's parcel was covered with Arabic writing was enough to give Mr.
Sladden the ideas of romance, and he followed until the little crowd
fell off and the stranger stopped by the kerb and unwrapped his parcel
and prepared to sell the thing that was inside it. It was a little
window in old wood with small panes set in lead; it was not much more
than a foot in breadth and was under two feet long. Mr. Sladden had
never before seen a window sold in the street, so he asked the price
of it.
"Its price is all you possess," said the old man.
"Where did you get it?" said Mr. Sladden, for it was a strange window.
"I gave all that I possessed for it in the streets of Baghdad."
"Did you possess much?" said Mr. Sladden.
"I had all that I wanted," he said, "except this window."
"It must be a good window," said the young man.
"It is a magical window," said the old one.
"I have only ten shillings on me, but I have fifteen-and-six at home."
The old man thought for a while.
"Then twenty-five-and-sixpence is the price of the window," he said.
It was only when the bargain was completed and the ten shillings paid
and the strange old man was coming for his fifteen-and-six and to fit
the magical window into his only room that it occurred to Mr.
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