went to Charing
Cross, and we just went round to Whitehall to see the soldiers and then
by St James's for the same reason--and when we'd looked in the shops a
bit we got to Brook Street, Bond Street. It was a brass plate on a
door next to a shop--a very grand place, where they sold bonnets and
hats--all very bright and smart, and no tickets on them to tell you
the price. We rang a bell and a boy opened the door and we asked for Mr
Rosenbaum. The boy was not polite; he did not ask us in. So then Dicky
gave him his visiting card; it was one of Father's really, but the
name is the same, Mr Richard Bastable, and we others wrote our names
underneath. I happened to have a piece of pink chalk in my pocket and we
wrote them with that.

Then the boy shut the door in our faces and we waited on the step. But
presently he came down and asked our business. So Dicky said--

'Money advanced, young shaver! and don't be all day about it!'

And then he made us wait again, till I was quite stiff in my legs, but
Alice liked it because of looking at the hats and bonnets, and at last
the door opened, and the boy said--

'Mr Rosenbaum will see you,' so we wiped our feet on the mat, which said
so, and we went up stairs with soft carpets and into a room. It was a
beautiful room. I wished then we had put on our best things, or at least
washed a little. But it was too late now.

The room had velvet curtains and a soft, soft carpet, and it was full
of the most splendid things. Black and gold cabinets, and china, and
statues, and pictures. There was a picture of a cabbage and a pheasant
and a dead hare that was just like life, and I would have given worlds
to have it for my own. The fur was so natural I should never have been
tired of looking at it; but Alice liked the one of the girl with
the broken jug best. Then besides the pictures there were clocks and
candlesticks and vases, and gilt looking-glasses, and boxes of cigars
and scent and things littered all over the chairs and tables. It was a
wonderful place, and in the middle of all the splendour was a little old
gentleman with a very long black coat and a very long white beard and a
hookey nose--like a falcon. And he put on a pair of gold spectacles and
looked at us as if he knew exactly how much our clothes were worth.

And then, while we elder ones were thinking how to begin, for we had
all said 'Good morning' as we came in, of course, H. O. began before we
could stop him. He said: