troduced; 'I
dare say you were all right enough in your own country, but I hope no
objections will be taken to my saying that the Frenchman was never yet
born as I should wish to match.'

At this moment the greasy door is violently pushed inward, and a boy
follows it, who says, after having let it slam:

'Come for the stuffed canary.'

'It's three and ninepence,' returns Venus; 'have you got the money?'

The boy produces four shillings. Mr Venus, always in exceedingly low
spirits and making whimpering sounds, peers about for the stuffed
canary. On his taking the candle to assist his search, Mr Wegg observes
that he has a convenient little shelf near his knees, exclusively
appropriated to skeleton hands, which have very much the appearance of
wanting to lay hold of him. From these Mr Venus rescues the canary in a
glass case, and shows it to the boy.

'There!' he whimpers. 'There's animation! On a twig, making up his mind
to hop! Take care of him; he's a lovely specimen.--And three is four.'

The boy gathers up his change and has pulled the door open by a leather
strap nailed to it for the purpose, when Venus cries out:

'Stop him! Come back, you young villain! You've got a tooth among them
halfpence.'

'How was I to know I'd got it? You giv it me. I don't want none of your
teeth; I've got enough of my own.' So the boy pipes, as he selects it
from his change, and throws it on the counter.

'Don't sauce ME, in the wicious pride of your youth,' Mr Venus retorts
pathetically.' Don't hit ME because you see I'm down. I'm low enough
without that. It dropped into the till, I suppose. They drop into
everything. There was two in the coffee-pot at breakfast time. Molars.'

'Very well, then,' argues the boy, 'what do you call names for?'

To which Mr Venus only replies, shaking his shock of dusty hair, and
winking his weak eyes, 'Don't sauce ME, in the wicious pride of your
youth; don't hit ME, because you see I'm down. You've no idea how small
you'd come out, if I had the articulating of you.'

This consideration seems to have its effect on the boy, for he goes out
grumbling.

'Oh dear me, dear me!' sighs Mr Venus, heavily, snuffing the candle,
'the world that appeared so flowery has ceased to blow! You're casting
your eye round the shop, Mr Wegg. Let me show you a light. My working
bench. My young man's bench. A Wice. Tools. Bones, warious. Skulls,
warious. Preserved Indian baby. African ditto. Bottled preparations,