"No," said the girl, "but you give 'em."
Wilfered extended his head a further inch through the peep-hole. His nose and that of the client almost touched each other.
"This is a noo game, ain't it?" demanded Wilfered.
"What next? 'Cause we 'appen to give you a powder once, out of our generosity, seem to think you on'y got to come in yere to get one on the nod atenny minnit. Go to the chimmis."
"Ma towld me to come yere," protested the client.
"Then," said Wilfered, "you go 'ome an' tell yere Ma as I refuse to serve ye. Seem to take us for a 'firmary. We don't sell powders, nor we don't give 'em—except first time to a reg'lar customer what does not know our rules. And if we was to sell powders, it wouldn't be for a penny, me gel.
"These powders," continued the loyal but shameless 'Pothecary, "are made up outer the very best drugs. They cost us frippence. You go 'ome an' tell yere mother that."
The lady went home, to be followed, in the course of nature—this being, as it were, "the children's hour"—by another lady, younger and smaller than any of her predecessors, demanding "A penny powder for——"
"'Oose baby?" demanded Wilfered.
"Baby four months old," replied the messenger.