The Spectator could have lingered there if alone for half a day, but not willingly for half an hour in such a crowd.

The crowd, however, closed every exit and he had to submit.

A possible chance to secure some odd bit was his only consolation.

Why the good old soul who last occupied the house, and who was born in it fourscore years ago, should necessarily have had only her grandmother's tableware, why every generation of this family should have suffered no losses by breakage, was not asked.

Every bit, even to baking-powder prizes of green and greasy glass, antedated the Revolution, and the wise and mighty of Smalltown knew no better.