"Oh you little darling!" Ebba said, patting its sleek head and long silken ears, while it fixed its large black eyes upon her, as if entreating her to become its purchaser. "Fairy seems to have taken quite a fancy to you, miss," observed Ginger; "and she ain't i' the habit o' fallin' i' love at first sight. I don't wonder at it, though, for my part. I should do jist the same, if I wos in her place. Vell, now, miss, as she seems to like you, and you seem to like her, I won't copy the manners o' them 'ere fathers as has stony 'arts, and part two true lovyers. You shall have her a bargin." "What do you call a bargain, my good man?" inquired Ebba, smiling. "I wish I could afford to give her to you, miss," replied Ginger; "you should have her, and welcome. But I must airn a livelihood, and Fairy is the most wallerable part o' my stock. I'll tell you wot I give for her myself, and you shall have her at a trifle beyond it. I'd scorn to take adwantage o' the likes o' you." "I hope you didn't give too much, then, friend," replied Ebba. "I didn't give hayf her wally--not hayf," said Ginger; "and if so be you don't like her in a month's time, I'll buy her back again from you. You'll alvays find me here--alvays. Everybody knows Mr. Ginger--that's my name, miss. I'm the only honest man in the dog-fancyin' line. Ask Mr. Bishop, the great gunmaker o' Bond Street, about me--him as the nobs calls the Bishop o' Bond Street--an' he'll tell you." "But you haven't answered the lady's question," said Auriol. "What do you ask for the dog?" "Do you want it for yourself, sir, or for her?" inquired Ginger. "What does it matter?" cried Auriol angrily. "A great deal, sir," replied Ginger; "it'll make a mater'al difference in the price. To you she'll be five-an'-twenty guineas. To the young lady, twenty." "But suppose I buy her for the young lady?" said Auriol. "Oh, then, in coorse, you'll get her at the lower figure!" replied Ginger. "I hope you don't mean to buy the dog?" interposed Mr. Thorneycroft. "The price is monstrous--preposterous." "It may appear so to you, sir," said Ginger, "because you're ignorant o' the wally of sich a hanimal; but I can tell you, it's cheap--dirt cheap. Vy, his Excellency the Prooshan Ambassador bought a Charley from me, t'other week, to present to a certain duchess of his acquaintance, and wot d'ye think he give for it?" "I don't know, and I don't want to know," replied Mr. Thorneycroft gruffly. "Eighty guineas," said Ginger. "Eighty guineas, as I'm a livin' man, and made no bones about it neither. The dog I sold him warn't to be compared wi' Fairy." "Stuff--stuff!" cried Mr. Thorneycroft; "I ain't to be gammoned in that way." "It's no gammon," said Ginger. "Look at them ears, miss--vy, they're as long as your own ringlets--and them pads--an' I'm sure you von't say she's dear at twenty pound." "She's a lovely little creature, indeed," returned Ebba, again patting the animal's head.