“You don’t want to buy a ferret, do you, Master Mercer?”
“Yes,” cried the latter eagerly; “I do want a ferret to hunt the rats in the stable. No, I don’t,” he said sadly; “I haven’t got any money.”
“You not got no money!” said the gipsy-looking fellow. “Oh, I like that, and you a gentleman.”
“How much is it?” said Mercer.
“Oh, only five shillin’. It’s like giving it away, only a chap I know wants some money, and he ast me to see if any of the young gents would like to buy it.”
“’Tisn’t your old ferret, then?”
“Oh no, sir; I got rid o’ that long enough ago, because I thought people would say I kep’ it to catch rabbids. They are so disagreeable. But this is an out and outer to catch rabbids,” he whispered.
“But five shillings is such a lot of money for a ferret, Magg.”
“Lot! Well, there! It’s giving of it away. Why, if I wanted such a thing, and had the chance to get such a good one as this, I’d give ten shillin’ for it.”
“But is it a good one, Magg?”