"Well, you can't sell anything unless you keep it in the shop, you know," persisted Dorothy, feeling that she was somehow or other getting the worst of the argument.
"Bosh!" said the Admiral, obstinately; "you can't keep things you sell—that is," he added, "not unless your customers are crazy"; and with this remark the Caravan went into the shop and shut the door in Dorothy's face, as if she wasn't worth talking to any longer.
Dorothy waited for a moment to see if they were coming out again, and then, as there was a noise inside as if they were piling up the drawers against the door by way of a barricade, she walked slowly away through the toy-shop.
"HE DROPPED HIS LITTLE BOOK, WITH AN APPEARANCE OF GREAT AGITATION, AND HURRIED AWAY."
She had had such a variety of adventures in the shop by this time that she was getting quite tired of the place, and she was walking along rather disconsolately, and wishing there was some way of growing to her natural size, and then getting back again to poor old Uncle Porticle and the Blue Admiral Inn, when, as she went around the corner of the little apothecary's shop, she came suddenly upon Bob Scarlet. To her great surprise, he was now just about the size of an ordinary robin; but he had on his red waistcoat, and had quite as important an air as ever, and he was strolling about examining the various toys, and putting down the price of everything in a little red book, as if he were thinking of going into the business himself.
"Now, I wonder how he ever got to be that size," thought Dorothy, as she hid behind a little pile of lead-pencils and watched him over the top of them. "I suppose he's eaten something, or drunk something, to make him grow, the way they do in fairy stories; because the Admiral certainly said he wasn't any bigger than an ant. And, oh! I wish I knew what it was," she added, mournfully, as the tears came into her eyes at the thought of how small she was, "I wish I knew what it was!"
"If I wasn't a little afraid of him," she went on, after she had had a little cry, "I'd ask him. But likely as not he'd peck at me—old peckjabber!" and here she laughed through her tears as she thought of the Caravan in their little sunbonnets. "Or p'r'aps he'd snap me up! I've often heard of snapping people up when they asked too many questions, but seems to me it never meant anything so awful as that before"; and she was rambling on in this way, laughing and crying by turns, when at this moment Bob Scarlet came suddenly upon a fine brass bird-cage, and, after staring at it in a stupefied way for an instant, he dropped his little book, with an appearance of great agitation, and hurried away without so much as looking behind him.
Dorothy ran after him, carefully keeping out of sight in case he should turn around, and as she went by the bird-cage she saw that it was marked "PERFECTLY SECURE" in large letters. "And that's what took the conceit out of you, mister," she said, laughing to herself, and hurried along after the Robin.