Patty, glancing at the room door to see if any one was coming, lifted down a cage containing perhaps a score; but the gentleman seemed hard to please, pointing out failings here and there in the various birds, till he seemed to fix the poor girl with his stare, though she kept striving to master her trepidation, and to hide from her unpleasant visitor the fact that his presence caused her dread. "I say," he whispered, suddenly; "I say," and he leaned across the counter. The movement seemed to break the spell, for Patty now made an effort to retreat to the back room; but, in a moment, the fellow had stretched out one long, gorilla-like arm, effectually barring her way, when hawk and dove seemed to stand in the naturalist's shop, eye to eye, the weak quailing before the strong. A loud rustle of a newspaper within ended the scene, for, starting at the sound, the rough visitor turned his attention to the birds once more, and re-commenced his fault-finding, giving Patty time to recover herself, and to redden with anger at what she was ready to call her cowardice when there was some one in the next room. "You see it ain't for myself," said the fellow, once more fixing his gaze on Patty, but turning the cage round the while; "it wouldn't matter if I wanted it; but he'll have to come and pick one for hisself. I don't think I'll take one to-day." Patty was about to take back the cage, but with a grin and a repetition of the hard breathing, the fellow drew it farther away. There was again the rustling of the newspaper. A moment after, the proprietor was heard to rise, and then he jerked himself into the shop, to attend to the customer. Patty, glad to get away, hurried into the back room, when a sharp piece of bargaining ensued between customer and dealer, ending, as might have been foreseen, in the former finding all possible fault, and then declining to purchase, as he went outside to stand staring heavily through the window, ostensibly at its contents, but really to see if Patty returned. Volume 1, Chapter XIV. JANET. Mr D. Wragg rented the whole of the house in Brownjohn Street, and his lodgers were confined to Mrs Winks and the little Frenchman, the attics being used for store purposes--old cages, birdseed, bundles of herbs, bags of feathers, cobwebs, and dust. These attics formed a part of the house rigidly tabooed by the dealer, who only gave a comical twitch to his countenance, and jerked his body from head to heel when Mrs Winks complained that she had not had a bit of sleep for the howlings of some dreadful dog there confined.