Two brothers: one shilling.
A sign: Change Given!
Twelve pennies: six in each tight grasp.
What’s Father always saying? Speculate to accumulate.
They part company:
the Confident One to bright lights and siren sounds, flashing buttons and levers galore, where cylinders spin and robot-hands pretend to grab toys;
the Tentative One to a dark room edged with silent cabinets, boxes of delight, diorama dreams: butcher-shops, bedrooms, cowboy-saloons, operating-theatres, schoolrooms, cemeteries. The penny drops: dogs steal sausages, ghosts appear, gunfights erupt, surgeons wield machetes, paper-planes fly, skeletons grin from graves.
Both emerge empty-handed but who has, nonetheless, added to his stash?