CHAPTER XII
DAN ENTERS INTO BUSINESS
Their plans were commenced the very next day. Susan came round with her work, and gave Ellen her first lesson in dressmaking. Ellen was as skilful with the needle as Susan was, and made famous progress. A cheerful worker is sure to turn out a skilful one.
"I have been thinking in the night, Ellen," said Susan, "that we might go into partnership."
"Wait," said Dan the Just, looking up from the table, on which the birds were going through their performances; "there is time enough to talk of that. I don't intend that you shall sacrifice every thing for us."
"No sacrifice could be too great for me to make for you, Dan," replied Susan. "But I think that I should have all the advantage, if we were partners. Ellen has such a beautiful figure, that she would be sure to get customers. Stand up, dear-look at her, Dan!" And Susan turned Ellen about, and looked at her pretty sister's pretty figure without a tittle of envy. "If you are a judge of any thing but birds, Dan, you must confess that but is a model."
Dan smiled and said, "If Ellen wasn't good, you would make her vain. Let the partnership question rest for a little while. Go on with your work, and don't talk. I've got something very particular to do."
Dan, with his birds before him, appeared to be perplexed with some more than usually difficult problem concerning them. There was a curious indecision also in his treatment of them. Now he issued a command, now he countermanded it; now he ordered a movement, and before it was executed threw the birds into confusion by giving the signal for something entirely different. Until at length the birds, especially the old stagers, stood looking irresolutely at each other, with the possible thought in their minds (if they have any) that their master had taken a drop too much to drink; and one young recruit-none but a young one and a tomtit, who is notoriously the sauciest of birds, would have dared to do it-advanced, alone and unsupported, to the edge of the table, and looking up in Dan's face, asked what he meant by it. Recalled to himself by this act of insubordination, Dan recovered his usual self-possession, and selected two bullfinches, somewhat similar to those which he had given to the Old Sailor. They were young untrained birds, and Dan at once commenced their education. But Ellen remarked with surprise that he was less tender in his manner towards them than towards the other birds. He spoke to them more sternly, and as if the business in which they were engaged was a serious business, with not a particle of nonsense in it.
"See, Ellen," he said after some days had passed-"see how clever they are They draw up their own food and their own water; and directly I sound this whistle, they sing 'God save the King.'"
He blew through the tin whistle, and the birds sang the air through.
"Now you sound the whistle, Ellen." Ellen blew through the whistle, and the birds repeated the air.
"So you see, Ellen it doesn't matter who blows the whistle; the birds begin to sing directly they hear it. Here is another whistle-a wooden one, with a different note. Blow that softly."
Ellen blew, and the bullfinches immediately set to work hauling up water from the well.
"That is good, isn't it?" said Dan. "They will obey anybody."
"But tell me, Dan, why you don't speak to them as kindly as you do to the others?"
"Ah, you have noticed it, miss, have you? I thought you did. Well, then in the first place, I wanted to teach them by a new system. I wanted to teach them so that anybody can make them do what I do, if he gives the proper signal; and I have succeeded, as you see. If I had taught them by my voice as I have taught the others, they wouldn't have been of use to any one but me. They are such cunning little thing's, and they have such delicate little ears! In the second place, Ellen, I did not want to grow fond of them."
"Why, Dan dear?"
"Because, if I had grown fond of them, it would almost break my heart to part with them. Who could help loving them, I wonder? They have been my world, you see, and they are such innocent little pets. I have grown to love them so, you can't tell. And we know each other's voices, and have made a language of our own, which no one else can understand."
He chirruped to them, and called to them in endearing tones; and all the birds, with the exception of the pair of bullfinches, fluttered to him, and perched about his shoulders and nestled in his breast. The two little bullfinches, standing alone in the centre of the table, looked more surprised than forlorn at the desertion.
Then Dan said: "This is part of my scheme. I commence business to-day as a bird-merchant. I have trained these two bullfinches to sell. You are earning money already, Ellen dear, and you are a girl. I am not quite a man in years, although I think I am here" – touching his forehead-"and I am not going to let you beat me at moneymaking."
He pulled out a paper, on which was written, in Roman letters, and neat round hand,
THIS PAIR OF BULLFINCHES
FOR SALE
They draw up their own food and water; and they sing
"GOD SAVE THE KING,"
And other Tunes, to the Sound of a Whistle
* * *
Inquire within of Dan Taylor
"What I propose to do, Ellen, is to put the cage with the bullfinches in the parlor-window, with this announcement over the cage. Perhaps it will attract the attention of some one or other, and he will be curious about it, and will come in and make inquiries."
So the birds were exhibited in the parlor-window, and above their cage was hung the announcement that they were for sale. The neighbors saw the birds, and there was not a woman for a quarter of a mile around who did not make a pilgrimage to the parlor-window of the Taylors. "Dan is selling his birds," they said, "because of his brute of a father;" and they shook their heads sorrowfully, and admired Dan's writing, and said he was quite a scholar. Ellen, working in the parlor, would pause in the midst of her hemming, or stitching, or basting, as the shadow of a passer-by darkened the window, and pray that he would come in and buy the birds.
The exhibition was a great boon to the dirty little boys and girls in the neighborhood, who at first stood in open-mouthed admiration, and would have stood so for hours, neglectful of the gutters, if an occasional raid against their forces by anxious mothers had not scattered them now and then. Those of the children who could get near enough, would flatten their noses and mouths against the window-panes in the fervor of their enthusiasm. The bullfinches, looking down from their perch upon the queerly-distorted features, had the advantage of studying human nature from an entirely novel point of view, and were doubtless interested in the study. For the purpose of attracting the passers-by, Dan, at certain intervals during the day, caused the birds to draw up their water and food; and those exhibitions were the admiration of the entire neighborhood.
"I wish some one would come in and ask the price of them," sighed Ellen, wishing that she had a fairy-wand to turn the sight-gazers into customers.
Dan only smiled, and bade Ellen have patience.
In the mean time Mr. Taylor, becoming every day more devoted in his worship to his god, fell every day into a worse and worse condition. One evening, Ellen, being tired, went to bed soon after tea, and on that evening Mr. Taylor happened to come home earlier than usual. There was a reason for it: he had spent all his money, had quite exhausted his credit, and had been turned out of the public-houses. Being less drunk than usual, he was more ill-tempered than usual, and he stumbled into the parlor with the intention of venting his ill-humor upon Ellen. But Ellen was not there. Dan was the only occupant of the room, and he was reading. He raised his eyes, and seeing his father half-drunk, he lowered them to his book again. He was ashamed and grieved.
"Where is Ellen?" demanded Mr. Taylor.
"Gone to bed," replied Dan shortly.
"Why isn't she here to get my supper?" asked the gin-worshipper irritably. Dan made no reply; but, although he appeared to be continuing his reading, a quivering of his lips denoted that his attention was not wholly given to his book. "Do you hear me?" continued Mr. Taylor after a pause, thumping his fist upon the table. "Why isn't she here to get my supper? What business has she to go to bed without getting my supper?"
"She was up at five this morning to do the washing, and has been working all day."
Dan spoke very quietly, and did not look at his father.
"Her mother wouldn't have done it," whimpered Mr. Taylor. "Here am I without two pence in my pocket, and my very children rebel against me. Is there any thing in the house for supper? – tell me that."
"I don't know. I don't think there is."
"You don't know! You don't think there is!" sneered Mr. Taylor. "You've had yours, I suppose?"
"No, sir, I have not had any."
"What do you mean by 'sir'?" cried Mr. Taylor furiously. "How dare you call your father 'sir'? Is that what you learned from your friend Joshua?"
Dan clasped his hands nervously together; he was agitated and indignant, and he did not dare to give expression to his thoughts.
"Why don't you speak?" demanded Mr. Taylor with unreasoning anger. "What do you mean by sitting there mocking your father?"
"I am not mocking you," said Dan. "And as for speaking, I am too much ashamed to say what I think; so I had better remain silent."
"How dare you speak to me in that way? Haven't I kept you for years in idleness and luxury? Haven't I provided for you? And now when I am in bad luck, and haven't sixpence to get a quartern loaf" – he meant a quatern of gin, but the loaf was the more dignified way of putting it-"my children turn against me."
"It isn't my fault that you have had to keep me," Dan said quietly. "If I had been like other boys, I should have been glad to work and earn money; but I am crippled, and never felt that I was unfortunate until now. I don't think mother would have thrown my misfortune in my teeth as you have done."
Mr. Taylor was too much steeped in gin to feel the reproachful words. He continued to bemoan his hard fate and the ingratitude of his children. In the midst of his bemoaning he caught sight of an empty cage. An inspiration fell upon him. That bird-cage could probably be exchanged for a pint of gin. Present bliss was before him, and the prospect of it made him cunning.
He ordered Dan to bed, and Dan, who could crawl with the aid of his crutches, went, thankful to escape from so painful an interview. When Dan came down the next morning he discovered his loss. He was much grieved; not so much at the loss of the bird-cage, but at the thought that his other cages and the birds might be appropriated in like manner. He said nothing of what had occurred, but that night when he went to bed he had all his birds and cages removed to his bedroom, and he locked his door.
It was midnight when Mr. Taylor came home. Although he was drunk, he crept like a thief into the house. The proceeds of the cage had supplied him with drink for the day; and having conscientiously spent every penny, he was in the same impoverished condition as he had been the previous night. As he could not live without gin, he determined to appropriate another bird cage. What right had Dan to them? They were his, the father's, who had kept his son in idleness, and who had clothed and sheltered him. Yet in the midst of his drunken muttering he was oppressed with a shamefaced consciousness of the villainy of his logic, and it was with difficulty he obtained a light from the tinder-box. The poor little rush-light flickered when it was lighted, as if it also were oppressed with shame.
Unsteadily, and with much stumbling, Mr. Taylor groped his way to Dan's room. Looking around on the walls he discovered, to his dismay and astonishment, that the birds and the cages were gone. His first surprise over, he gave way to passion. The boy had no doubt taken the cages to his bedroom for fear his father should steal them. How dared Dan suspect him? He would teach Dan a lesson-a lesson that he would not forget. Working himself into a state of maudlin indignation he stumbled up the stairs to Dan's bedroom, and tried the door. It was locked. Here was another proof of his son's ingratitude and want of confidence. What was he to do for gin the next day? He must have gin; he could not live without it. Ellen's bedroom was next to Dan's. The drunken father turned the handle of the door, and looked in. On the floor were Ellen's boots. He saw gin marked on them, and catching them up, he clutched them to his breast, and slunk guiltily to bed.
Ellen, rising the next morning, looked about in vain for her boots. She searched for them up stairs and down stairs, wondering what had become of them. The door of her father's room was open, and she entered it; but Mr. Taylor, knowing that Ellen was an early riser, had taken care to get out of the house before she was about. When Ellen saw the empty bed, some glimmering of the truth flashed upon her. At first the poor girl sat down upon the bed and began to cry; the loss of her boots was a grievous loss indeed to her. She had no money to buy another pair with; they were such beautiful boots, too, and fitted her so nicely! What was she to do? How it would grieve Dan to know? That thought calmed her. Dan must not know-it would hurt him too much. She might be able to get an old pair from somebody during the day; perhaps Susan had an old pair to lend her. She dried her eyes and washed them well with cold water, and altogether managed so successfully, that breakfast was over, and she and Dan and the birds were all together in the parlor, without Dan ever suspecting what had occurred.
Those two children sitting there were fully aware that a grave crisis was approaching. Young as they were to bear the weight of serious trouble, they bore it cheerfully, and strove in their humble way to fight with the world and with the hard circumstances of their lives. Dan cripple as he was had much hope; and often when he was thinking over certain schemes which had been suggested by the stern necessity of his condition, a quaint smile would play upon his lips, and a humorous light would shine in his eyes. Ellen, looking up from her work, would sometimes see that smile, which, for all its quaintness, had a shade of thoughtfulness in it; and on her lips, too, a pleasant smile would wreathe in sympathy. They were very tender towards each other; and their love made them strong.
Ellen busy with her needle, sat close to the table, so that Dan should not catch a glimpse of her shoeless feet. Dan was industriously at work training two birds, which were to replace those in the window when they were sold.
The education of this second pair of birds was almost completed, and Dan said as much to Ellen. He had taught them different tricks, and had fitted two ladders in the cage, up and down which they hopped, keeping time, step for step.
"But will they ever be sold?" exclaimed Ellen almost despairingly.
"It is a long time before we make a commencement," said Dan. "There's Susan."
When Susan entered, she examined the dress which Ellen was making, and suddenly exclaimed, -
"Why, Ellen, where are your boots?"
Dan looked up quickly, and then directed his eyes to Ellen's feet. Poor Ellen stammered a good deal, and striving to hide the truth from Dan, got into a sad bewilderment of words.
"Nay, but, Ellen," interposed Dan in a grave voice, "you don't mean to say that you have been sitting all the morning without your boots?"
"Yes, I have," said Ellen, compelled to confess.
"But why, my dear?"
"When I got up this morning, I looked for them, and could not find them. Perhaps I can find them now." And Ellen ran out of the room; but she soon returned, shaking her head, and saying, "No, they're gone. Never mind; it can't be helped."
"You really don't know what has become of them?"
"No, Dan."
"Did you see father last night?"
Ellen shook her head.
"Nor this morning?"
Ellen shook her head again.
"I can't quite see what is to be the end of all this," said Dan sadly. "It is almost too dreadful to think of. Father must have taken your boots, Ellen dear. The night before last he took a bird-cage; that was the reason I had all my birds in my bedroom last night. It is very, very dreadful. Poor dear mother! Poor dear Joshua! I do wish you were here now to advise us what to do!"
And the three children then drew closer together, and strove to comfort each other.
"Dry your eyes, Ellen," said Dan stoutly; "brighter days will come. Susan, have you a pair of old boots that you can lend to Ellen?"
Susan ran out of the house and returned with a pair of boots which she had bought at a second-hand clothes-shop, and which Ellen was very thankful for, although they were much too large for her.
Mr. Taylor came home at midnight in a state of drunken delirium. He had drunk deeply-so deeply, that when he slammed the street-door behind him, he found himself in the midst of a thousand mocking eyes, growing upon him and blasting him with hideous looks; and as he groped his way in terror up the dark stairs, a thousand misshapen hands strove to bar his progress. They fastened on him and clung to him; and the faster his trembling hands beat them down and tore them away, the more thickly they multiplied. So, fighting and suffering and groaning in his agony, the drunkard staggered to his room, and Dan and Ellen shuddered as they lay and listened. Well for them that they could not see as well as hear; well for them that they could not see him pick the crawling things (existing only in his imagination) off his bed-clothes and throw them off with loathing; that they could not see him, bathed in perspiration, writhing in his bed and fighting with his punishment. He could not endure it. It was too horrible to bear.
The room was full of creeping shapes, visible in the midst of the darkness. He would go out into the streets, into the light, where they could not follow him. Where was the door? He felt about the walls for it. It was gone; he was closed in, imprisoned with his terrors. He beat about with his hands deliriously. The window! ah, they had not closed that! He dashed at the panes, and tearing open the casement with his bleeding fingers, fell from a height of twenty feet, and met a drunkard's death.
CHAPTER XIII
DAN DECLARES THAT IT IS LIKE A ROMANCE
The old gentleman with the hour-glass who never sleeps does not look a day older, and yet four seasons have played their parts and have passed away. The white hairs in George Marvel's head are multiplying fast, and he grumbles at them as usual, but has given up the task of pulling them out. Great changes have taken place among Joshua's friends; and Dan, looking up from his work, remarks sometimes that it is almost like a romance. Judge if it is.
When Mr. Taylor was buried-when the shame of his death was forgotten and only sorrow for it remained-the children found themselves in one of those social difficulties from which many wiser persons than they are unable to extricate themselves. For the first three or four weeks after their father's death, Mrs. Marvel and Susan had between them managed to defray the small expenses of the house; but the tax was heavy-too heavy for them to continue to bear. One day, however, unexpected help came. George Marvel, in his quiet way, had conceived a great idea, and in his quiet way had carried it out. Here were these two children thrown upon the world. Not children exactly perhaps, for they were nearly seventeen years of age; but one was a cripple, and the other was a girl. They had been good children, and their character stood high in the neighborhood. Who ought to assist them? The neighbors. Some one must take it in hand, and why not he as well as any other person? No sooner had he made up his mind than he set to work. He went round to the neighbors personally, and told them what his errand was. Poor as they were, they gave their mites cheerfully, with scarcely an exception. When he had made the round of the neighbors, he went to the workshops, and the men there gave their penny each, and the boys their halfpence; and so swelled the total. His own employers and fellow-workmen were more liberal than any. He did not forget his tradesmen, his butcher and baker and grocer. They all gave; and the result was that, at the end of the three weeks during which he had been employed in his self-imposed task, he had a sum of not less than twelve pounds four shillings in his possession, to hand over to Dan and Ellen to assist them through their trouble. The night he made up his accounts, he told his wife what he had done, and she blessed him for it, and was silently and devoutly grateful that Providence had given her a husband with such a heart.
The following evening George Marvel visited the children, with his bag of money in his coat-tail pocket. Ellen was at work, and although she looked pale in her black dress, she looked very pretty. The goodness of the heart always shows itself in the face.
Now Dan had been thinking all day, and indeed for many previous days, that he ought to consult some mature person as to what he was to do. You must understand that Dan, notwithstanding that he was so much younger than Susan, considered himself the head of the family. He had his plans, but he wanted advice concerning them. Up to the present time, his business in trained birds had not flourished. It could not be said to have commenced, for he had not sold a bird. He had decided Mr. Marvel would be a proper person to ask advice of, and by good luck here Mr. Marvel was.
"Have you a few minutes to spare, sir?"
"Yes, surely, Dan," replied Mr. Marvel.
"I want to take your advice, sir," commenced Dan after a slight hesitation. "You know how we are situated, and how suddenly our misfortunes have come upon us. Well, sir, we must live; we must have bread-and-butter. Now the only scapegrace out of the lot of us is me-don't interrupt me, Ellen, nor you, sir, please. Susan is earning her bread-and-butter and something more. Ellen is earning enough to keep her; and I am the only idle one of all of us, and I am the only one who is eating bread-and-butter and is not earning it."
"But, Dan," interposed George Marvel.
"No, sir, please; let me go on. I have been eating the bread of idleness all my life, and I am eating it now. It isn't right that I should do so. I ought to earn my own living. But how? I am not like other boys, and cannot do what other boys can do. One thing is certain: I can't let Ellen work for me, and it would break my heart to part from her; and she would feel it quite as much as I should. – Yes, Ellen, keep your arm round my neck, but don't speak. – I tried to earn money, you know that. I trained some birds, and put them in the window, thinking that some one would buy them. But no one has. I haven't earned a penny-piece, and every bit of bread I put into my mouth has been paid for by Susan and Ellen."
Notwithstanding his eagerness, his tears choked him here, and he was compelled to pause before he resumed. In the mean time, obedient to his wish, neither Ellen nor Mr. Marvel spoke.
"Now, sir, this is my idea. I have got now twenty-two birds; they can do all sorts of tricks: they can whistle tunes; they can climb up ladders; some of them can march like soldiers and can let off guns; some of them can draw carts. Would it be considered begging, if I, a lame boy, who have no other way of getting bread-and-butter, made an exhibition of these birds, and got some one to wheel me about the streets, and stop now and then so that I might put the birds through their tricks? I shouldn't be ashamed to accept what kind persons might give me, or might drop into a little box which I would take care to have handy. I wouldn't do it in this neighborhood. I would go a long way off-three or four miles perhaps-into the rich parts of London, where people could better afford to give. But would it be considered begging? That is what I want to ask your advice upon, sir."
George Marvel's breath was completely taken away. The enthusiastic manner in which Dan had spoken, no less than his admiration of the proposed scheme, had caused him to forget his errand for the time. "Wait a minute," he said somewhat excitedly, "I must think; I must walk about a bit." But no sooner had he risen than the weight of the money in his coat-tail pocket brought him to his sober senses, and he sat down again.
"Dan," he said, taking the lad's hand affectionately in his, "you are a good boy, and I am glad that you are Joshua's friend. I will answer your question and give you my advice, as you ask it. In any other case than yours I think it would be begging; but I don't think it would be in yours."
"Thank you, sir," said Dan gratefully.
"Mind, I think even in your case it would not be exactly what I should approve of, if you had any other way of getting a living."
"You think as I do, sir; but I have tried, as you see, and I have not succeeded."
"Try a little longer, Dan."
"How about next week's rent, sir?"
"You can pay it," replied George Marvel, "and many more weeks' besides. I have a present for you in my pocket;" and he pulled out the bag of money and put it on the table. "In this bag is twelve pounds four shillings, which your friends-yours and your sisters'-have clubbed together for you, and that is what brought me here to-night."
"O sir!" cried Dan, covering his face with his hands.
"This money has been got together because all of us round about here love you. I sha'n't give it to you all at once. You shall have it so much every week; and I should advise you-as you ask for my advice-to continue training birds for sale and putting them in your window. Try a little while longer. A customer may come at any minute. And one customer is sure to bring another."
"How can I thank you and all the good people, sir?" said Dan, with a full heart.
"Never mind that now," said George Marvel.
If he had known that it would have been so difficult and painful a task, it is not unlikely he would have remitted it to his wife to accomplish. Pretending to be in a great hurry, he rose to go, and, pressing Dan's hand and kissing Ellen, went home to his wife and told her of Dan's wonderful idea.
Ellen and Dan were very happy the next morning, and set about their work cheerfully and hopefully. Dan wrote a new announcement concerning the birds, and the windows were cleaned, and presented a regular holiday appearance. In the midst of his work, Dan, looking up, saw a face at the window that he recognized. It was that of a young man who had been in the habit of looking in at the window nearly every day for the last week, and of whom Dan had observed more than once, that he looked like a customer.
"There he is again, Ellen," said Dan; "the same man. Why doesn't he come in and ask the price of them?"
He had no sooner spoken the words than the man's face disappeared from the window, and a knock came at the street-door.
"Run and open the door, Ellen. I shouldn't wonder if he has made up his mind at last." Dan's heart beat loud with excitement. "How much shall I ask for them?" he thought. "Oh, if he buys a couple of them, how happy I shall be!"
The parlor-door opened, and the man entered; decidedly good-looking, dark, with a fresh color in his face, and with black hair curling naturally. The first impression was favorable, and Dan nodded approvingly to himself. The man had curiously flat feet, which, when he walked, seemed to do all the work without any assistance from his legs; and although his eyes were keen and bright, they did not look long at one object, but shifted restlessly, as if seeking a hiding-place where they could retire from public gaze.
"I have been attracted by the birds in the window," he said, coming at once to to the point, much to Dan's satisfaction. "Can they really perform what the paper says? Can they really sing 'God save the King,' and draw up their own food and water?"
"They can do all that sir; but you shall see for yourself. – Ellen! Where is Ellen?" Dan called; for he wanted her to assist him, and she had not followed the stranger into the room.
"Ah, Ellen," said the stranger, dwelling on the name. "Is that the young lady who opened the door for me?"
"Yes, sir. – Ellen!" Dan called again.
"Allow me," said the stranger; and he went to the door, and called in tones which slipped from his throat as if it was oiled, "Ellen! Ellen!" Then he turned to Dan, and questioned: "Your sister?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ah," said the man greasily, "she is extremely like you. Allow me. I will bring the cage to the table."
He brought the cage from the window, and placed it before Dan. At that moment Ellen entered the room. The man's eyes wandered all over her as she took her seat at the table. She did not return his gaze, but bent her head modestly to her work.
"Your sister's name is Ellen," he said, "and yours?"
"Daniel," said Dan; "Daniel Taylor."
"Daniel; a scriptural name. Mine is also a Scriptural name: Solomon, Solomon Fewster. Solomon was a wise man; I hope I take after him."
"I hope so, I am sure, sir," said Dan somewhat impatiently; for he was anxious to get to business. "Now, sir, if you will please to look and listen."
He blew through the tin whistle; and the bullfinches piped "God save the King."
"Very pretty, very pretty," said Solomon Fewster, nodding his head to the music. "And you taught them yourself?"
"Yes, sir. But it isn't as if they will only sing for me; they will sing for you, or for Ellen, or for any one who blows the whistle."
"And they will sing for Ellen if she breathes into the whistle?" said Solomon Fewster. "Will Ellen breathe into the whistle with her pretty red lips? Allow me."
He took the whistle from Dan and handed it to Ellen; and she reluctantly gave the signal to the birds, who willingly obeyed it. Fewster took the whistle from her and blew; and the birds for the third time piped the air. Then Dan directed his attention to the wooden whistle, and to the wonders performed by the birds at its dictation. Nothing would please Mr. Fewster but that Ellen should place the wooden whistle between her "pretty red lips," as he called them again, and "breathe into it." He said that "breathe" was more appropriate to Ellen's pretty lips than "blow." He, using the whistle after her, cast upon her such admiring looks, that he really made her uncomfortable. The performance being over, Dan gazed at Mr. Fewster with undisguised anxiety. He had intended to be very cunning, and to appear as if he did not care whether he sold the birds or not; but the effort was unsuccessful.