There was a miserable pause. Then Anthea remembered, and said—
“Oh! I wish I had two pounds ten.”
“So do I, Miss, I’m sure,” said the man with bitter politeness; “I wish you “ad, I’m sure!”
Anthea’s hand was on the counter, something seemed to slide under it. She lifted it. There lay five bright half sovereigns.
“Why, I have got it after all,” she said; “here’s the money, now let’s have the Sammy,... the monkey I mean.”
The dealer looked hard at the money, but he made haste to put it in his pocket.
“I only hope you come by it honest,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He scratched his ear again.
“Well!” he said, “I suppose I must let you have it, but it’s worth thribble the money, so it is—”
He slowly led the way out to the hutch—opened the door gingerly, and made a sudden fierce grab at the Psammead, which the Psammead acknowledged in one last long lingering bite.
“Here, take the brute,” said the shopman, squeezing the Psammead so tight that he nearly choked it. “It’s bit me to the marrow, it have.”