eats 'em."

"Who do?"

"Nobs do--swells--gentlemen--ah, an' ladies, too!"

"More shame to them, then."

"Why, so says I, young master, but, ye see, beef an' mutton, ducks
an' chicken, an' sich, ain't good enough for your Nobs nowadays, oh
no! They must dewour larks wi' gusto, and French hortolons wi'
avidity, and wi' a occasional leg of a frog throw'd in for a
relish--though, to be sure, a frog's leg ain't over meaty at the
best o' times. Oh, it's all true, young sir; it's all wrote down
here in this priceless wollum." Here he tapped the book upon his knee.
"Ye see, with the Quality it is quality as counts--not quantity.
It's flavor as is their constant want, or, as you might say, desire;
flavor in their meat, in their drink, and above all, in their books;
an' see you, I sell books, an' I know."

"What kind of flavor?" demanded Barnabas, coming a step nearer,
though in a somewhat stately fashion.

"Why, a gamey flavor, to be sure, young sir; a 'igh flavor--ah! the
'igher the better. Specially in books. Now here," continued the
Chapman, holding up the volume he had been reading. "'Ere's a book
as ain't to be ekalled nowheers nor nohow--not in Latin nor Greek,
nor Persian, no, nor yet 'Indoo. A book as is fuller o' information
than a egg is o' meat. A book as was wrote by a person o' quality,
therefore a elewating book; wi' nice bold type into it--ah! an'