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."