pictures of Christ crucified, the red blood dropping from His wounds, or
the old rustic bridge of an English village, crude as almanacs, printed to
satisfy the artistic longings of the people.

Opposite, a cock crowed in defiance; the hens cackled loudly in the coops;
the ducks lay on planks, their legs fastened with string, their eyes dazed
with terror or fatigue.

A cargo of scented soap and perfume, the damaged rout of a chemist's shop,
fascinated the younger women, stirring their instinctive delight in
luxury; and for a few pence they gratified the longing of their hearts.

The children pricked their ears at the sudden blare of a tin trumpet, the
squeaking of a mechanical doll. And they stared in amazement at the
painted toys, surprised that the world contained such beautiful things.
The mothers, harassed with petty cares, anxiously considered the prices;
then the pennies were counted, and the child clasped in its small hands a
Noah's ark, a wax doll, or a wooden sword.

Chook stared at the vegetable stalls with murder in his eyes, for here
stood slant-eyed Mongolians behind heaps of potatoes, onions, cabbages,
beans, and cauliflowers, crying the prices in broken English, or
chattering with their neighbours in barbaric, guttural sounds. To Chook
they were the scum of the earth, less than human, taking the bread out of
his mouth, selling cheaply because they lived like vermin in their gardens.

But he forgot them in watching the Jews driving bargains in second-hand
clothes, renovated with secret processes handed down from the Ark. Coats
and trousers, equipped for their last adventure with mysterious darns and
patches, cheated the eye like a painted beauty at a ball. Women's finery