Lady Good-for-Nothing | Page 6

the Collector, carelessly feeling in his
pocket, drew out a coin and put it into her hand. Her fingers closed on
it sharply, almost with a snatch. In truth, the touch of metal was so
intolerable to the burnt flesh that, but for clutching it so, she must have
dropped the coin. Still with bowed head she passed quietly from the
room.
Master Dicky munched his macaroon and sipped his cordial. He had a
whole guinea in his breeches pocket, and was thinking it would be
great fun to step out and explore the town, if only for a little way.
To-morrow was Sunday, and all the stores would be closed. But
Manasseh was too busy to come with him for bodyguard--and his
father's boots were off; and besides, he stood in great awe and shyness
of his admired parent. Had the boots been on, it would have cost him a
bold effort to make the request. On the whole, the cordial warming him,
Master Dicky had a mind to take French leave.
Chapter III.
TWO GUINEAS.
Though the wind hummed among the chimneys and on the back of the
roof, on either side of the lamp over the gateway the maples stood in
the lee and waved their boughs gently, shedding a leaf now and then in

some deflected gust. Beyond and to the left stretched a dim avenue,
also of maples; and at the end of this, as he reached the gate, the boy
could spy the lights of the fair.
There was no risk at all of losing his way.
He stepped briskly forth and down the avenue. Where the trees ended,
and with them the high wall enclosing the inn's stable-yard, the wind
rushed upon him with a whoop, and swept him off the side-walk almost
to the middle of the road-way. But by this time the lights were close at
hand. He pressed his little hat down on his head and battled his way
towards them.
The first booth displayed sweetmeats; the next hung out lines of sailors'
smocks, petticoats, sea-boots, oilskin coats and caps, that swayed
according to their weight; the third was no booth but a wooden store,
wherein a druggist dispensed his wares; the fourth, also of wood,
belonged to a barber, and was capable of seating one customer at a time
while the others waited their turn on the side-walk. Here--his shanty
having no front--the barber kept them in good humour by chatting to all
and sundry while he shaved; but a part of the crowd had good-naturedly
drifted on to help his neighbour, a tobacco-seller, whose stall had
suffered disaster. A painted wooden statue of a Cherokee Indian lay
face downward across the walk, as the wind had blown it: bellying
folds of canvas and tarpaulin hid the wreck of the poor man's
stock-in-trade. Beyond this wreckage stood, in order, a vegetable stall,
another sweetmeat stall, and a booth in which the boy (who cared little
for sweetmeats, and, moreover, had just eaten his macaroon) took much
more interest. For it was hung about with cages; and in the cages were
birds of all kinds (but the most of them canaries), perched in the dull
light of two horn lanterns, and asleep with open, shining eyes; and in
the midst stood the proprietor, blowing delightful liquid notes upon a
bird-call.
It fascinated Dicky; and he no sooner assured himself that the birds
were really for sale--although no purchaser stepped forward--than there
came upon him an overmastering desire to own a live canary in a cage
and teach it with just such a whistle. (He had often wondered at the

things upon which grown-up folk spent their money to the neglect of
this world's true delights.) Edging his way to the stall, he was
summoning up courage to ask the price of a bird, when the salesman
caught sight him and affably spared him the trouble.
"Eh! here's my young lord wants a bird. . . . You may say what you
like," said he, addressing the bystanders, "but there's none like the
gentry for encouragin' trade. . . . And which shall it be sir? Here's a
green parrot, now, I can recommend; or if your Honour prefers a bird
that'll talk, this grey one. A beauty, see! And not a bad word in his
repertory. Your honoured father shall not blame me for sellin' you a
swearer."
The boy pointed to a cage on the man's right.
"A canary? . . . Well, and you're right. What is talk, after all, to
compare with music? And chosen the best bird of my stock, you have;
the pick of the whole crop. That's Quality, my friends; nothing but the
best'll do for Quality, an' the instinct of it comes out young." The