see), that the village had come out; it was to see the exhibition, and
the exhibition was ready for them. An awning was spread over the
after-deck, and under this was arranged with care the main collection of
corals and shells, the commoner sorts, such as found a ready sale at
low prices. There was pure white coral, in long branches, studded with
tiny points, like the wraith of the fairy thorn; there were great piles
of the delicate fan-coral, which the sailors call sea-fans, and which
Franci would hold out to every girl who had any pretence to good looks,
with his most gracious bow, and "Young lady like to fan herself, keep
the sun off, _here_ you air, ladies!" While Laurentus would blush and
hang his head if any woman addressed him, and would murmur the wrong
price in an unintelligible voice if the woman happened to be young and
pretty.

Then there were mushroom corals, so inviting that one could hardly
refrain from carrying them home and cooking them for tea; and pincushion
corals, round and hard, looking as if they had been stolen from the best
bedroom of some uncompromising New England mermaid. Yes; there was no
end to the corals. The lovely white branches were cheap, and nearly
every child went off with a branch, small or large, dwelling on it with
eyes of rapture, seeing nothing else in the world, in some cases failing
to see even the way, and being rescued from peril of water by the
Skipper or Rento. The favourite shells were the conches, of all sizes
and varieties, from the huge pink-lipped Tritons of the "Triumph of
Galatea," down to fairy things, many-whorled, rainbow-tinted, which were
included in the "handful for five cents" which Franci joyously
proclaimed at intervals, when he thought the children looked wistful and
needed cheering up, since they could not have all they saw.

But the Cypræas were beautiful, too, and of every colour, from white or