And who are you?"
"My name's Stoop, if you please, sir."
Mr. Boolpin broke out with a laugh, which made the building reverberate.
"It's the village idiot," said he. "He goes by the name of Stoop, which
is short for Stupid. Ha! ha! Come, now, clear out, Stupid, and don't be
bothering the gentleman."
The boy-man began to whimper, when Tiffles, recollecting an allusion to
a semi-idiot in one of the postmaster's letters, said:
"Stay, my lad; I believe I owe you something."
"For pastin' up two hundred posters, fifty cents; and distributin' five
hundred bills, twenty-five cents. Totale, seventy-five cents." The idiot
did not hold out his hand for the pay, and Tiffles conceived an instant
esteem for him. An idea came to Tiffles. This idiot, as he was called,
had shown intelligence in reckoning. He might have a deal of good sense
under that dull exterior. Tiffles had observed, in his travels, that
_the_ idiot which Providence assigns to every town and village, is not
always the biggest fool in it. This idiot might have sufficient
intellect to turn the crank of the panorama, and render muscular aid in
other respects.
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