"Certainly, madam." (I was prepared to sell the cottage by this
time.)
"What do you ask for them?"
Rapid calculation on my part, excessively difficult without pencil
and paper. A canary is three to five dollars in America, - that is,
from twelve shilling to a pound; then at a venture, "From ten
shillings to a guinea, madam, according to the quality of the bird."
"Would you like one for your birthday, Margaret, and do you think
you can feed it and take quite good care of it?"
"Oh yes, mamma!"
"Have you a cage?" to me inquiringly.
"Certainly, madam; it is not a new one, but I shall only charge you
a shilling for it." (Impromptu plan: not knowing whether Mrs. Bobby
had any cages, or if so where she kept them, to remove the canary in
Mrs. Bobby's chamber from the small wooden cage it inhabited, close
the windows, and leave it at large in the room; then bring out the
cage and sell it to the lady.)
"Very well, then, please select me a good singer for about twelve
shillings; a very yellow one, please."
I did so. I had no difficulty about the colour; but as the birds
all stopped singing when I put my hand into the cages, I was
somewhat at a loss to choose a really fine performer. I did my
best, with the result that it turned out to be the mother of several
fine families, but no vocalist, and the generous young man brought
it back for an exchange some days afterwards; not only that, but he
came three times during the next week and nearly ruined his nervous
system with tea.
