"Gentleman spoke to me?" he inquired, blandly.

The gentleman had not spoken, but had made a series of gasps and grunts,
expressive of extreme impatience and eagerness.

"That's a poor specimen," he cried now, eying the shell greedily, "a
very poor specimen! What do you expect to get for it, hey?"

"A perfect specimen!" replied the Skipper, calmly. "The gentleman has
but to look at it closer"--and he held it nearer to the greedy corkscrew
eyes--"to see that it is a rare specimen, more perfect than often seen
in museums. I brought up this shell myself, with care choosing it; its
price is five dollars."

Mr. Endymion Scraper gave a scream, which he tried to turn into a
disdainful chuckle.

"Five cents would be nearer it!" he cried, angrily. "Think we're all
fools down here, hey? Go 'long with your five dollars."

"No, Señor, not all fools!" said the Skipper. "Many varieties among men,
as among shells. I am in no haste to sell the Voluta Musica. It has its
price, as gentleman knows by his catalogue. Here is a razor-shell;
perhaps the gentleman like that. Shave yourself or other people with
this!"

"I want to know!" interposed Mrs. Isaac Cutter, leaning forward eagerly,
spectacles on nose. "Can folks really shave with those, sir? They do
look sharp, now, don't they? What might you ask for a pair?"