"You're no so clever as you think yoursel'!" he said triumphantly to Tommy, who replied with his inscrutable smile. But to his satellites he said, "Not a soul will buy a fortune frae Birkie. I'll get thae cards for a penny afore next week's out." Francie Crabb found Tommy sniggering to himself in the back wynd. "What are you goucking at?" asked Francie, in surprise, for, as a rule, Tommy only laughed behind his face. "I winna tell you," chuckled Tommy, "but what a bar, oh, what a divert!" "Come on, tell me." "Well, it's at the man as is swallowing swords ahint the menagerie." "I see nothing to laugh at in that." "I'm no laughing at that. I'm laughing at him for selling the swords for ninepence the piece. Oh, what ignorant he is, oh, what a bar!" "Ninepence is a mislaird price for a soord," said Francie. "I never gave ninepence." Tommy looked at him in the way that always made boys fidget with their fists. "You're near as big a bar as him," he said scornfully. "Did you ever see the sword that's hanging on the wall in the backroom at the post-office?" "No, but my father has telled me about it. It has a grand name." "It's an Andrea Ferrara, that's what it is." "Ay, I mind the name now; there has been folk killed wi' that soord." This was true, for the post-office Andrea Ferrara has a stirring history, but for the present its price was the important thing. "Dr. McQueen offered a pound note for it," said Tommy. "I ken that, but what has it to do wi' the soord-swallower?" "Just this; that the swords he is selling for ninepence are Andrea Ferraras, the same as the post-office ones, and he could get a pound a piece for them if he kent their worth. Oh, what a bar, oh, what--" Francie's eyes lit up greedily, and he looked at his two silver shillings, and took two steps in the direction of the sword-swallower's, and faltered and could not make up his agitated mind. Tommy set off toward the square at a brisk walk. "Whaur are you off to?" asked Francie, following him. "To tell the man what his swords is worth. It would be ill done no to tell him." To clinch the matter, off went Tommy at a run, and off went Francie after him. As a rule Tommy was the swifter, but on this occasion he lagged of fell purpose, and reached the sword-swallower's tent just in time to see Francie emerge elated therefrom, carrying two Andrea Ferraras. Francie grinned when they met. "What a bar!" he crowed.