"I can do a trick that, I flatter myself, no other man in England can perform," said Morcar, still speaking in a careless, indifferent kind of way. "But as you tell me that you are in the juggling line——"
"Yes—we are; and we ain't ashamed on't," exclaimed two or three of the men together.
"Well—then I'll explain to you what I can do," continued Morcar. "I've made a net that winds round an immense long roller, which must be raised upon two upright stakes. When the net is drawn out at dusk, or in a darkened room, it shows a thousand different figures—men, animals, fish, birds, snakes, and monsters of all kinds."
"Capital!—capital!" exclaimed the jugglers.
"But that isn't all," continued Morcar. "These figures all move about—skip—leap—dance—fly—crawl—or seem to swim, according to their nature."
"Come, come—that won't do!" said one of the men, who began to think the gipsy was bantering them.
"It's as true as you're there," answered Morcar, seriously; "and it's very easy to do, too:—only a little phosphorus and other chemical things, skilfully used in a particular way. I reckon upon setting all the young children wild with delight when they see it."
"And if you can really do what you say," observed the man who had last spoken, "you're safe to make your ten bob a-day. But, then," he added, with a sly glance towards his companions, "the trick won't take so well alone: it ought to come after the usual exhibition of chaps like us."
"That's just what I have been thinking myself," cried Morcar. "Only, as I didn't know any people in your way——"
"Well, now you know some, at all events," interrupted the spokesman of the party of jugglers; "and though I say it what shouldn't perhaps, you won't find a jollier or better set of fellers than us in all England. What should you say to making a bargain with us?"