fficult to say which, though the rows of tall masts a little
way off in the docks and the paved streets hardly seemed to suit the
idea of a village. And a few minutes more brought them to what was
ambitiously called the 'Parade,' where stood the long low bazaar, with a
large placard at the door announcing that 'entrance' was 'free.'

In summer the bazaar blossomed out into twice its winter size, thanks to
a tentlike canvas front; at present it was a building of not very
imposing appearance. But it was long in proportion to its width, and one
or two gas-jets lighted up the innermost end, even in the daytime. This
gave it a rather mysterious air, and added much to Biddy's admiration.

'It's a _lovely_ place,' she whispered to the others in an almost
awestruck tone. Rough felt much gratified; he considered the bazaar his
own 'find.' He set to work very graciously to do the honours of it, and
led the way slowly between the two sloping-upwards counters or tables at
each side, on which were arranged the more important and expensive
wares--china vases, glass, English and foreign, some of it really quaint
and uncommon, such as was not, in those days at least, to be often met
with in regular shops, workboxes and desks of various kinds;
papier-mache writing-books, a few clocks; jewelry, a little real, a
great deal imitation, in glass-lidded cases; and so on. And down the
centre stood groups of walking-sticks, camp-stools, croquet-sets, and
such like.

'Usefuller' things, as Biddy afterwards told her mother, were not
wanting either. Hair-brushes and combs, metal teapots, and lots of gaily
painted trays were among them. And some very magnificent dolls gazed
down with their bright unblinking eyes at the whole from a high
position, where they and the larger, more costly toys were placed.

It was all very imposing, very breath-taking-away, and Biddy's eyes
were very eager and her mouth wide open as she trotted after Alie. For
London shops were not as magnificent forty years ago as they are now;
and, besides it was not often that the little Vanes had paid a visit to
Cremer's or the arcades, which are children's delight. And then it was
here so delightfully uncrowded and quiet. The shopwoman, knowing who
they were, felt not a little honoured by their prompt visit, and beyond
a civil 'Good-morning, young ladies,' left them free to stare about and
admire as they chose.

But they did not linger long before the objects which they knew t