rs, and the
empty bottles bouquet-holders, and offered to buy her a pair of
spectacles to see matters more clearly with.

"Couleur de rose?" laughed Madame.

We went in a body to the marionettes, and Madame screamed as we climbed
the inclined plane to enter, and scrambled down the frail scaffolding to
the "reserved seats." These cost twopence a head, and were "reserved"
for us alone. The dolls were really cleverly managed. They performed the
closing scenes of a pantomime. The policeman came to pieces when clown
and harlequin pulled at him. People threw their heads at each other, and
shook their arms off. The transformation scene was really pretty, and it
only added to the joke that the dirty old proprietor burned the red
light under our very noses, amid a storm of chaff from Jack.

From the marionettes we went to the fat woman. A loathsome sight, which
turned me sick; but, for some inexplicable reason, seemed highly to
gratify Madame. She and Jack came out in fits of laughter, and he said,
"Now for the two-headed monstrosity. It'll just suit you, Madame!"

At the door, Madame paused. "Mais, ce n'est pas pour des petites
filles," she said, glancing at Eleanor and me.

"_Feel?_" said Jack, who was struggling through the crowd, which was
dense here. "It feels nothing. It's in a bottle. Come along!"

"All right, Madame," said Eleanor, smiling. "We'll wait for you
outside."

We next proceeded to the photographer's, where Jack and Madame were
photographed together with Pincher.

By Madame's desire she was now led to the "bazaar," where she bought a
collar for Pincher, two charming china boxes, in the shape of dogs'
heads, for Eleanor and her mother, a fan for me, a walking-stick for
Monsieur le Pasteur, and some fishing-floats for Clement. By this time
some children had gathered round us. The children of the district were
especially handsome, and Madame was much smitten by their rosy cheeks
and many-shaded flaxen hair.

"Ah!" she sighed, "I must make some little presents to the children;"
and she looked anxiously over the stalls.

"Violin, one and six," said the saleswoman. "Nice work-box for a little
girl, half-a-crown."

"Half a fiddlestick," said Jack promptly. "What have you got for a
halfpenny?"

"Them's halfpenny balls, whips, and dolls. Them churns and mugs is a
halfpenny; and so's the little tin plates. Them's the halfpenny monkeys
on sticks."

"Now, Madame," said Jack, "put that half-crown back, and