"I thought as you'd like 'em," said the man, as he watched her with glittering eye; "but they're getting werry skeerce, Miss; and what with the building and 'closing commons, and shutting up of Epping Foresses, there soon won't be no more flowers for poor people, only in shop winders and grand ladies' bonnets, and of course they won't smell. You mark my words, Miss; afore long, London'll get to be so big that it'll fill up all England, and swaller up all the country, so that they'll have to build right out all round into the sea, and get their grunsel and chickweed for singin' birds from furrin parts." "It was very kind of you, though, Dick, to think of us," said Patty; and she held out her hand with a coin or two half-hidden therein; but the rough gipsy fellow shook his head, as he struggled against the temptation, for it was hard work to refuse money; then stooping, he occupied his hands with the straps of his basket. "I don't want no payin' for 'em, Miss. I ain't forgot the many a good turn she done my poor missus. I aint half outer debt yet. Besides, I'm flush just now; got a good two bobs' worth o' stuff, if I'm lucky, and here goes to sell it. Miss Janet all right?" As the answer came in the affirmative, the man guided his basket out, and commenced singing in a sonorous minor key-- "Chickweed and grunsel for your singin' birds!" as he turned to go down the street, rubbing his eyes with the knuckles of one hand. "Might ha' been like her, if she'd on'y ha' lived," he muttered; and then, giving his eyes another rub, the dirty knuckles of his hand glistened as if with moisture, as he gave his strap and basket another hitch before going any farther. Chickweed Dick was gone; but he only gave place to one Chucky, who drew a donkey-cart to the door, and brought in a basket of red sand. Then came boys to ask the price of guinea-pigs and white mice; boys to offer squirrels or hedgehogs for sale--miry and dusty boys, with the marks of the shires upon their shabby garb, to indicate long tramps, as bits of hay and straw whispered of nights passed beneath some friendly stack; but the proprietor of this Noah's ark was already overstocked, and, in spite of references made by Patty, there was no dealing. Patty meanwhile sang on as she fed the rest of the stock; and as if in emulation, the birds whistled loudly, darting eagerly at their cage bars, as she distributed the green food brought by Dick; but her song suddenly ceased, as did that of the birds, when a heavy-looking gaol-typical young fellow, in a sleeved vest, entered the shop, breathed hard, and then, staring offensively at Patty the while, asked to look at some finches.