“Splendid. You come and look at it. I’ve got it in the tool-house in a watering-pot.”
“Let’s go and see it, Frank,” cried Mercer, and we followed the slouching-looking fellow into the tool-shed, where a watering-pot stood, with a piece of slate over the half open top and a piece of brick laid on that.
“There!” cried Magglin, removing the cover and taking out a sandy-coloured snaky-looking animal, with sharp nose and pink eyes, one which writhed about almost like an eel.
“Why, it’s your old one, Magg, that you had in the hedge that day.”
“Nay, not it. It’s something like it, but this is an ever so much better one. Why, don’t you recollect? That one used to get in the holes and wouldn’t come out again for hours and hours.”
“Oh yes, I recollect, and how cold it was. This is it.”
“Why, don’t I keep telling of you it ain’t. This is a hever so much better one as I’ve got to sell for a chap for five shillin’: but if you don’t want to buy it, you needn’t keep finding fault with it. I dessay Mr Big Burr will buy it. It’s a beauty—ain’t yer?”
“But I do want to buy it,” said Mercer, watching the man as he stroked and caressed the thin creature, “but I haven’t got any money to spare.”
“That don’t matter. If you like to buy the ferret, I dessay the chap’ll wait and take a shillin’ one time and a shillin’ another, till it’s all paid off.”
“Oh,” cried Mercer, “if he’ll sell it like that I’ll have it; but you’re sure it’s not your old one?”