Outside in the street the rain fell pitilessly, but inside the
Children's Shop all was warmth and brightness. Happy young people of
all ages pressed along, and I had no sooner opened the door than I
was received into the eager stream of shoppers and hurried away to
Fairyland. A slight block at one corner pitched me into an old,
white-bearded gentleman who was standing next to me. Instantly my
hat was in my hand.
"I beg your pardon," I said with a bow. "I was--Oh, I'm sorry, I
thought you were real." I straightened him up, looked at his price,
and wondered whether I should buy him.
"What do you mean by real?" he said.