"You have not swept my chimneys before ?" "I have been working for Mr.Trapp almost three years," said I demurely.
"Yes, I have seen your face.

But I do not often have my chimneys swept: it is dreadful waste of money.

The soot, now--your master and I cannot agree about it.

I say that the soot is mine, that I made it, in my own chimney, with my own fuel; therefore it should be my property, but your master claims it.

Five years ago I left my chimneys un-swept while I argued this; but one of them took fire, and so I lost my soot, and the Corporation fined me five shillings.
It was terrible." He fell back a pace and studied me again.
"If my brother Aaron could see your face, boy, he would want to paint it and you might make money." "Where does he live, sir ?" I asked.
"Eh?
Good boy--good boy! He lives in Lisbon, in the Ghetto off the Street of the Four Evangelists." He laughed, high up in his nose, at my discomfiture.