ld you have
out of all the shop?"

Jackie looked thoughtful. His birthday was approaching, and though he
would not have hinted at such a thing, it did pass through his mind that
Mary's question might have something to do with that occasion. He
studied the matter therefore with the attention it deserved, for he had
to consider both his own inclinations and the limits of Mary's purse.
At last he said deliberately:

"The squirrel. What would _you_ choose?"

"The piping bullfinch," said Mary, without an instant's hesitation.

"Why," exclaimed Jackie, "that's almost the most expensive thing in the
shop!"

"I don't see that that matters at all," answered Mary. "You asked me
what I liked best, and I like that best--much."

More customers and acquaintances had now crowded in, and the little shop
was quite full.

"I believe we've seen everything," said Jackie; "let's get up in the
dog-cart and wait there for father. Oh," he continued with a sigh, when
they were seated again, "_how_ jolly it must be to be Greenop! Wouldn't
you like to be him?"

"No," said Mary decidedly, "I shouldn't like it at all; I couldn't bear
it."

"Why?" asked Jackie.

"Oh, because he's quite a common man, and tucks up his shirt sleeves,
and keeps a shop."

"Well, that's just the nice part of it," said Jackie eagerly--"so
interesting, always to be among the animals and things. And then his
shop's in the very best part of Dorminster, where he can see everything
pass, and all his friends drop in and tell him the news. I don't expect
he's ever dull."

"I daresay not," said Mary, with a shrug of contempt; "but I shouldn't
like to be a common vulgar man like that."

Jackie got quite hot.

"I don't believe Greenop's vulgar at all," he said. "Look how he
stuffed those pheasants for father. I heard father say, `Greenop's an
uncommonly clever fellow!' Father likes to talk to him, so he can't be
vulgar."

Mary did not want another quarrel; she tried to soften her speech down.

"But you see I couldn't be _Mr_. Greenop," she said, "I could only be
_Mrs_. Greenop, and sit in that dull little hole at the back of the
shop and darn all day."

"Oh, well," Jackie acknowledged, "that might not be so pleasant; but,"
he added, "you might be his daughter, and help to feed the birds, and
serve in the shop."

Mary tossed her head.

"What's the good of talking like that?" she said; "I'm _not_ his
daughter, and I'm sure I don't want to be."