pyramid of spiced
beef, released from its American tin; also German sausage and other
dainties of the kind. Then there were canisters of tea and coffee, tins
of mustard, a basket of eggs, some onions, boxes of baking-powder and
of blacking; all arranged so as to make an impression on the
passers-by; everything clean and bright. Above the window stood in
imposing gilt letters the name of the proprietor: O'Gree.

They entered. The shop was very small and did not contain much stock.
The new shelves showed a row of biscuit-tins, but little else, and from
the ceiling hung balls of string. On the counter lay an inviting round
of boiled beef. Odours of provisions and of fresh paint were strong in
the air. Every thing gleamed from resent scrubbing and polishing; the
floor only emphasised its purity by a little track where a child's
shoes had brought in mud from the street; doubtless it had been washed
over since the Sunday morning's custom had subsided. Wherever the walls
would have confessed their bareness the enterprising tradesman had hung
gorgeous advertising cards. At the sound of the visitors' footsteps,
the door leading out of the shop into the parlour behind opened
briskly, a head having previously appeared over the red curtain, and
Mr. O'Gree, in the glory of Sunday attire, rushed forward with eager
hands. His welcome was obstreperous.

"Waymark, you're a brick! Mr. Casti, I'm rejoiced to receive you in my
establishment! You're neither a minute too soon nor a minute too late.
Mrs. O'Gree only this moment called out from the kitchen that the
kettle was boiling and the crumpets at the point of perfection! I knew
your punctuality of old, Waymark. Mr. Casti, how does it strike you?
Roaring trade, Waymark! Done two shillings and threepence three
farthings this Sunday morning. Look here, me boy,--ho, ho!"

He drew out the till behind the counter, and jingled his hand in
coppers. Then he rushed about in the wildest fervour from object to
object, opening tins which he had forgotten were empty, making passes
at the beef and the ham with a formidable carving-knife, demonstrating
the use of a sugar-chopper and a coffee-grinder, and, lastly, calling
attention with infinite glee to a bad halfpenny which he had detected
on the previous afternoon, and had forthwith nailed down to the
counter, _in terrorem_. Then he lifted with much solemnity a hinged
portion of the counter, and requested his visitors to pass into the
back-parlour.