This was the Toy Arcade, now, I'm afraid, gone the way of so many other romantic things. It had been to all of us the most wonderful spot in Polchester from the very earliest days, this partly because of the toys themselves, partly because it was the densest and darkest of all the Arcades, never utterly to be pierced by our youthful eyes, partly because only two doors away were the sinister rooms of Mr. Dawson, the dentist. Here not only was there every kind of toy--dolls, soldiers, horses, carts, games, tops, hoops, dogs, elephants--but also sweets--chocolates, jujubes, caramels, and the best sweet in the whole world, the Polchester Bull's- eye. They went in together. Mrs. Magnet, now with God, an old woman like a berry, always in a bonnet with green flowers, smiled and bobbed. The colours of the toys jumbled against the dark walls were like patterns in a carpet. "What do you say, Miss Brandon?" said Johnny. "If I give you a toy will you give me one?" "Yes," said Joan, afraid a little of Mrs. Magnet's piercing black eye. "You're not to see what I get. Turn your back a moment." Joan turned around. As she waited she could hear the "Hie!...Hie! Woah!" of the market-cries, the bleating of the sheep, the lowing of a cow. "Here you are, then." She turned. He presented her with a Japanese doll, gay in a pink cotton frock, his waist girdled with a sash of gold tissue. "Now you turn your back," she said. In a kind of happy desperation she seized a nigger with bold red checks, a white jacket and crimson trousers. Mrs. Magnet wrapped the presents up. They paid, and walked out into the sun again. "I'll keep that doll," said Johnny, "just as long as you keep yours." "Good-bye," said Joan hurriedly. "I've got to call at a house on the other side of the market.... Good-bye." She felt the pressure of his hand on hers, then, clutching her parcel, hurried, almost ran, indeed, through the market-stalls. She did not look back.