when you hit a neighbour's gramophone
with a well-aimed brick, the same instant silence, and the rustle of the
paper stopped, and everything was still....

"Have you done with my hat?" I said, after an interval.

There was no answer.

I stared at Gip, and Gip stared at me, and there were our distortions in
the magic mirrors, looking very rum, and grave, and quiet....

"I think we'll go now," I said. "Will you tell me how much all this
comes to?....

"I say," I said, on a rather louder note, "I want the bill; and my hat,
please."

It might have been a sniff from behind the paper pile....

"Let's look behind the counter, Gip," I said. "He's making fun of us."

I led Gip round the head-wagging tiger, and what do you think there
was behind the counter? No one at all! Only my hat on the floor, and a
common conjurer's lop-eared white rabbit lost in meditation, and looking
as stupid and crumpled as only a conjurer's rabbit can do. I resumed my
hat, and the rabbit lolloped a lollop or so out of my way.

"Dadda!" said Gip, in a guilty whisper.

"What is it, Gip?" said I.

"I DO like this shop, dadda."

"So should I," I said to myself, "if the counter wouldn't suddenly
extend itself to shut one off from the door." But I didn't call Gip's
attention to that. "Pussy!" he said, with a hand out to the rabbit as it
came lolloping past us; "Pussy, do Gip a magic!" and his eyes followed
it as it squeezed through a door I had certainly not remarked a moment
before. Then this door opened wider, and the man with one ear larger
than the other appeared again. He was smiling still, but his eye met
mine with something between amusement and defiance. "You'd like to see
our show-room, sir," he said, with an innocent suavity. Gip tugged
my finger forward. I glanced at the counter and met the shopman's eye
again. I was beginning to think the magic just a little too genuine.
"We haven't VERY much time," I said. But somehow we were inside the
show-room before I could finish that.

"All goods of the same quality," said the shopman, rubbing his flexible
hands together, "and that is the Best. Nothing in the place that isn't
genuine Magic, and warranted thoroughly rum. Excuse me, sir!"

I felt him pull at something that clung to my coat-sleeve, and then
I saw he held a little, wriggling red demon by the tail--the little
creature bit and fought and tried to get at his hand--and in a moment
he tossed it carelessly behind a counter. No doub