It was an odd sort of
thing for a man to be travelling with.
"It was lying in the roadway just outside the station," he
explained; "I picked it up for luck."
He refolded his handkerchief so as to bring a cooler surface in
contact with the swelling, while I murmured something genial about
the inscrutability of Providence.
"Yes," he said, "I've had a deal of luck in my time, but it's never
turned out well."
"I was born on a Wednesday," he continued, "which, as I daresay you
know, is the luckiest day a man can be born on. My mother was a
widow, and none of my relatives would do anything for me. They
said it would be like taking coals to Newcastle, helping a boy born
on a Wednesday; and my uncle, when he died, left every penny of his
money to my brother Sam, as a slight compensation to him for having
been born on a Friday. All I ever got was advice upon the duties
and responsibilities of wealth, when it arrived, and entreaties
that I would not neglect those with claims upon me when I came to
be a rich man."
He paused while folding up his various insurance papers and placing
them in the inside breast-pocket of his coat.
Pages:
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235