o a
roar of laughter, and demanded his price.

Barnaby looked as though he didn't understand his meaning. Probably he
did not.

'His price,' said the gentleman, rattling the money in his pockets,
'what dost want for him? How much?'

'He's not to be sold,' replied Barnaby, shutting up the basket in a
great hurry, and throwing the strap over his shoulder. 'Mother, come
away.'

'Thou seest how much of an idiot he is, book-learner,' said the
gentleman, looking scornfully at his wife. 'He can make a bargain. What
dost want for him, old woman?'

'He is my son's constant companion,' said the widow. 'He is not to be
sold, sir, indeed.'

'Not to be sold!' cried the gentleman, growing ten times redder,
hoarser, and louder than before. 'Not to be sold!'

'Indeed no,' she answered. 'We have never thought of parting with him,
sir, I do assure you.'

He was evidently about to make a very passionate retort, when a few
murmured words from his wife happening to catch his ear, he turned
sharply round, and said, 'Eh? What?'

'We can hardly expect them to sell the bird, against their own desire,'
she faltered. 'If they prefer to keep him--'

'Prefer to keep him!' he echoed. 'These people, who go tramping about
the country a-pilfering and vagabondising on all hands, prefer to keep
a bird, when a landed proprietor and a justice asks his price! That old
woman's been to school. I know she has. Don't tell me no,' he roared to
the widow, 'I say, yes.'

Barnaby's mother pleaded guilty to the accusation, and hoped there was
no harm in it.

'No harm!' said the gentleman. 'No. No harm. No harm, ye old rebel, not
a bit of harm. If my clerk was here, I'd set ye in the stocks, I would,
or lay ye in jail for prowling up and down, on the look-out for petty
larcenies, ye limb of a gipsy. Here, Simon, put these pilferers out,
shove 'em into the road, out with 'em! Ye don't want to sell the bird,
ye that come here to beg, don't ye? If they an't out in double-quick,
set the dogs upon 'em!'

They waited for no further dismissal, but fled precipitately, leaving
the gentleman to storm away by himself (for the poor lady had already
retreated), and making a great many vain attempts to silence Grip, who,
excited by the noise, drew corks enough for a city feast as they hurried
down the avenue, and appeared to congratulate himself beyond measure on
having been the cause of the disturbance. When they had nearly reached
the lodge, another servant, e