That would have meant six shillings, which of course was not to be thought of. Even ill-health was to be preferred to such an expenditure. As Peter reminded his sister, he could almost bury her for that sum. Finally they bought one bottle of pellets. Not even the quack's conviction that Mary was suffering from an undue secretion of bile could persuade them to purchase more. The rogue collected a pound's worth of silver from the circle, and went on his way to capture a fresh lot of gulls; and so the dishonesty and fun of the fair went on side by side; while there was half-blind Brightly, squeezing against the railings of the church, with his ridiculous honesty, and his trayful of pipes and tie-clips which never grew less. Honesty is a money-making policy in the land of Utopia, but not elsewhere; and Utopia means nowhere. Christianity has been preached for nearly two thousand years, and still the man is a fool who leaves his silver-mounted stick outside the door. The next thing was luncheon, as elegant folk have it; or a proper old guzzle, according to Peter. The savages had made up their minds to do the fair properly, and eating was certainly a chief item of the programme. Savoury goose, with plenty of sage and onions, was the dish of the day. Peter put the pills in his pocket, and forgot that his liver was out of order, as Mary ignored the untruth that she suffered from "too much oil." It was useless to try strange words upon her. While she was eating that portion of goose appointed for the day she tried to make her brother explain how the oil had got into her system, but Peter was much too busy to answer. He was guzzling like a monkey, with his face in the plate, half choking in his hurry, gulping, perspiring, gasping with sheer greediness, and splashing in the rich gravy very much as the goose he was feeding on had once flopped through some moorland bog.