The father of the family looked at the bill, and remarked
quizzically, "Bond Street prices, eh?"
"Bond Street service," said I, curtsying demurely.
He paid it without flinching, and gave me sixpence for myself. I
was very much afraid he would chuck me under the chin; they are
always chucking barmaids under the chin in old English novels, but I
have never seen it done in real life. As they strolled down to the
gate, the second gentleman gave me another sixpence, and the nice
young fellow gave me a shilling; he certainly had read the old
English novels and remembered them, so I kept with the children.
One of the ladies then asked if we sold flowers.
"Certainly," I replied.
"What do you ask for roses?"
"Fourpence apiece for the fine ones," I answered glibly, hoping it
was enough, "thrippence for the small ones; sixpence for a bunch of
sweet peas, tuppence apiece for buttonhole carnations."
Each of the ladies took some roses and mignonette, and the
gentlemen, who did not care for carnations in the least, weakened
when I approached modestly to pin them in their coats, a la barmaid.
At this moment one of the children began to tease for a canary.
"Have you one for sale?" inquired the fond mother.
"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.
