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    The old shopkeeper led me through to theback of the shop. The room was filled with boxes and dusty photographs ofpeople holding packages in their hands.

    Mr. Hopkins said, "We have a verywide choice of items for sale. Whenever I serve a new customer, I take hispicture. "  Mr. Hopkins pointed toan ancient camera on a table.

    I began to appreciate the lovely itemson sale. I spent a very pleasant hour being shown thecommodi-tiesinthe shop. Finally,  I bought an antiquejewelry box, a pair of riding boots and a sewing machine.

    I was very excited that I had found sucha good little shop. "I will tell all my friends about your love-ly place." I told the shopkeeper. "Please don't do that, sir. " said Mr.Hopkins. "This is a special place for special people. You must keep thisshop a secret. " Then he took my photograph and handed me the picturestraight away.

    " That was quick! " Iexclaimed. In the picture I looked proud and excited holding the presents I hadbought there.

    On Christmas Day, my friends andrelatives were delighted with the presents I had bought for them.

    For weeks, my brother begged me to takehim to the wonderful little shop. I finally agreed.

We walked along Oxford Street, past thedepartment store and found—nothing. In its place was an empty space beingused as a car park. I checked the area again. There was the music shop, andthere was the department store. In between should have been Hopkins and Son,but it wasn't there.

    Just then, an old policeman came."Are you looking for something, sir?" he asked. "I am lookingfor a little shop called Hopkins and Son. "

    "Oh yes, there was a shop here'once called Hopkins and Son. But it was knocked down over 30 years ago. "

    I looked again at the place, then Ireached into my pocket and took out the photograph that Mr. Hop-kins had takenof me holding my presents in the little shop.

    " How strange!"  I screamed.

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