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_.
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