The former was as grotesque a type of
the jolly old _vendeuse_ of Paris as it would be possible to find. A
low, winey humor twinkled in her little black eyes, hidden in wrinkly
wads of fat; her nose glowed with good feeling; her toothless mouth
smirked good-naturedly. A worn shawl covered her chunky shoulders, and
a cap like a muslin and flannel extinguisher protected her bald old
head from the weather. The granddaughter, being young and rather
pretty, was less interesting as a picture of a curious type. The shop
occupied a corner, and seemed to literally overflow upon the sidewalks
of the two streets, so that care was needful in moving about to avoid
stumbling over the profuse array of objects which littered the way. A
group of old women were standing near, laughing and chattering in
toothless merriment over some mysterious cause of amusement, which I
grievously suspected to be myself, the apparition of a foreigner being
no doubt an uncommon one in that quarter. But the women of the shop,
having an eye to sales, were obsequiously polite to the stranger. I
engaged in conversation with the old woman, who proved quite
communicative, and set me off on a path of inquiry which yielded
information of curious interest.
"Voyez!" cried out the younger woman from behind the broad counter
open to the street, and spread with a literally innumerable variety of
articles--"Voyez! All one sou! your choice in the sale!"
To study the shop was to find many suggestions of the types of people
living in the surrounding buildings--alphabets and whistles for
children; playing-cards for gamesters; camphor cigarettes for
invalids; sewing-cases for work-girls; mirrors for coquettes; and toys
innumerable, "all one sou.
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