“I think you will find this item particularly appealing,” the shopkeeper said, gesturing to a small purple velvet pouch secured with a glossy gold pull rope.
“What is it?” Toby asked curtly.
“A bag of manure.”
“A bag of manure!?”
“Yes—steaming,” the shopkeeper added.
“Why in God’s name would I want to purchase a bag of steaming manure?” Toby said as he turned toward the door.
“It’s from France.”
Toby stopped, closed his eyes, and sighed.
“I’ll take two.”