"I wanted to see you, so I will come in," and Tim followed the old man into the shop.
His first impulse was to retrace his footsteps, for the air in the shop was close and unpleasant, and he felt he could not breathe there; he did not retreat, however, as, on glancing around him, he was fascinated by the sight of a big monkey asleep in a corner with a small, terrier puppy cuddled in its arms, and various other animals such as guinea-pigs, rabbits, mice and rats, ranged in hutches around the walls. Several parrots screamed in cages suspended from the ceiling, and a raven croaked on a shelf over the door. Tim grew accustomed to the babel of sounds in a few minutes, and did not so much notice the offensive atmosphere, and, as the old man desired him politely to look around, he did so at his leisure, finally drawing up before a hutch in which were several young rabbits with beautifully thick, white hair.
"Ah, those are worth looking at," remarked Mr. Dottin; "pure-bred Angoras, they are. Maybe you're a rabbit fancier?" he questioned, regarding his visitor shrewdly.
"No," Tim answered, "but I want to buy a rabbit for a—a—some one I know. What would be the price of one of those, now?"
"Five shillings," was the unhesitating response.
"Five shillings!" echoed Tim, his face clouding over. "Oh dear, so much as that? Then it's out of the question my buying one to-day, thank you."
He turned towards the door as he spoke, but the old man stopped his exit by saying hastily:
"Wait a minute, sir; don't be in such a hurry; perhaps we may be able to come to terms."
"I'm afraid not," Tim replied regretfully. "For I haven't five shillings in the world; that is the truth."
"Well, well, you're frank, and I like you for it. They're beautiful creatures and pure-bred, as I said just now," Mr. Dottin observed thoughtfully, surveying the rabbits and then Tim with his head on one side.