’Well, ma’am, do you take me for a mere mountebank?  But when ladies and gentlemen take such unusual fancies—­and for an animal that—­you would not aver that it is often found from home?’

‘Never, I should say.’

‘Nor that it is accessible?’

‘Certainly not.’

‘And why is it so, ma’am?’

‘Why,’ said Sophy, bewildered into forgetting her natural history, ‘it lives at the bottom of the sea; that’s one thing.’

‘Where Truth lives,’ said a voice behind.

‘I beg to differ,’ observed Albinia.  ’Truth is a fresh water fish at the bottom of a well; besides, I thought coral worms were always close to the surface.’

‘But below it—­not in everybody’s view,’ said Sophy—­an answer which seemed much to the satisfaction of the audience, but the showman insisted on knowing why, and whether it did not conceal itself.  ’It makes stony caves for itself, out of sight,’ said Sophy, almost doubting whether she spoke correctly.  ‘Well, surely it does so.’

‘Most surely,’ said an acclamation so general that she did not like it.  If she had been younger, she would have turned sulky upon the spot, and Mr. Ferrars almost doubted whether to bring ont his final query.  ’Pray, ma’am, do you think this creature out of reach in its self-made cave, at the bottom—­no, below the surface of the sea, would be popular enough to repay the cost of procuring it.’

‘Ah! that’s too bad,’ burst out the Hibernian tones.  ’Why, is not the best of everything hidden away from the common eye?  Out of sight—­stony cave—­It is the secret worker that lays the true solid foundation, raises the new realms, and forms the precious jewels.’  The torrent of r’s was irresistible!

‘Police! order!’ cried the showman.  ’An Irish mob has got in, and there’s an end of everything.’  So up went the curtain, and the polyp appeared, becoming rapidly red coral as she perceived what the exhibition was, and why the politeness of the Green Isle revolted from her proclaiming her own unpopularity.  But all she did was to turn gruffly aside, and say, ’It is lucky there are no more ladies to come, Mr. Showman, or the mob would turn everything to a compliment.’

Gilbert’s curiosity was directed to the Laughing Jackass, and with too much truth he admitted that it took its tone from whatever it associated with, and caught every note, from the song of the lark to the bray of the donkey; then laughed good-humouredly when the character was fitted upon himself.

‘That is all, is it not?’ asked the showman.  ’I may retire into private life.’

‘Oh no,’ cried Willie; ‘you have forgotten Mr. Dusautoy.’

‘I was afraid you had,’ said Lucy, ’or you could not have left him to the last.’

‘I am tempted to abdicate,’ said Mr. Ferrars.

‘No,’ Albinia said.  ’He must have his share, and no one but you can do it.  Where can he be? the pause becomes awful!’