“Bob o’link! bob o’link! bob o’link! two and threepence! two and threepence! two and threepence!” was the reply from the apple-tree. “Won’t take it,” said Bob; “it’s a real silver-grey: half a dollar is little enough for it. Can’t sell it for two and threepence.” “Bob o’link! bob o’link! you’d better, you’d better, you’d better; two and threepence, two and threepence, two and threepence; now or never, now or never, now or never.” “Can’t ye say any more? Well, take it then. I won’t stand for ninepence. Hand us over the money,” said Bob, twisting his head round and round, endeavouring to get a sight of the person with whom he was bargaining. “Bob o’link! bob o’link! bob o’link! let’s have it! let’s have it, let’s have it: quick or ye’ll lose it! quick or ye’ll lose it!” Bob turned his head toward the quarter from which the sound proceeded, and imagining he saw somebody in the tree, threw up the fox-skin, exclaiming, “There it is, and cheap enough too, at two and threepence.” Mr. Bob o’link started and flew away, singing “Bob o’link, bob o’link! catch a weasel, catch a weasel, catch a weasel!” for Bob Lee made clear English of every thing that the bird said, and never doubted all the while that he was driving a regular bargain with a country trader. At the same time, spying a toadstool growing at the foot of the tree, he imagined it to be a half dollar, and made a grasp at it. The toadstool was demolished under his hand, but Bob happening to clutch a pebble-stone at the same moment, thrust it into his pocket, fully persuaded he had secured his coin. “Can’t make change,—remember it next time!” said he, and so turning about, he made the best of his way homewards.