The shop was broad, low-roofed, and shallow, with a choky atmosphere of dust, through which the golden sunlight slanted in heavy, solid-looking beams. On the one side there was a row of little partitions like bathing-boxes, designed to secure secrecy to those who transacted business with Mr. Lazarus, and, on the other, long rows of old clothes were hanging up against the wall, looking like the phantoms of their former owners. At the back, a door, covered with faded green baize, and decorated with brass-headed nails, gave admittance to the private office of the presiding genius of the place. The whole appearance of the shop was gloomy in the extreme, and the floor, being covered with boxes and bundles, with a little clearing here and there, it was naturally rather embarrassing to strangers (especially as the bright sunlight outside prevented them seeing an inch before their noses) when they first entered the dismal den wherein Mr. Lazarus sat like a spider waiting for unwary flies. In one of the bathing machines aforesaid, a large red-faced woman, with a gruff voice and a strong odour of gin, was trying to conclude a bargain with a small, white-faced Jewish youth whose black beady eyes were scornfully examining a dilapidated teapot, which the gruff lady asserted was silver, and which the Jewish youth emphatically declared was not. The gruff female, who answered to the name of Tibsey, grew wrathful at this opposition, and prepared to do battle. "Old 'uns knows more nor youngers," she growled in an angry tone. "'Tain't by the sauce of babes and sucklers as I'm goin' to be teached." "'Old your row," squeaked Isaiah, that being the shrill boy's name. "Five bob, and dear at that." Mrs. Tibsey snorted, and her garments--a tartan shawl and a brown wincey--shook with wrath. "Lor a mussy, 'ear the brat," she said, lifting up her fat hands; "why, five poun' wouldn't buy it noo; don't be 'ard on me, my lovey--me as 'ave popped everythink with you, includin' four silver spoons, a kittle, a girdiron, an' a coal-scuttle; don't be 'ard, ducky; say ten an' a tizy." "Five bob," returned the immovable Isaiah. "You Jewesis is the cuss of hus hall," cried Mrs. Tibsey, whacking the counter with a woefully ragged umbrella. "You cheats an' you swindles like wipers, an' I 'ates the sight of your 'ook noses, I do." "You'll 'ave the boss out," said Isaiah, in a high voice, like a steam whistle, to which Mrs. Tibsey replied in a rolling bass, a duet which grew wilder and wilder till the sudden opening of the green baize door reduced them both to silence. An old man appeared--such a little old man--very much bent, and dressed in a greasy old ulster which covered him right down to his ragged carpet slippers. He had white hair and beard, piercing black eyes under shaggy white eyebrows, sharply-cut features, and a complexion like dirty parchment, seared all over with innumerable lines.