"What kind of goods do you sell?"
"Hardware and ship chandlery—from New York," I added, so that she would not ask the name of the house—as I wasn't sure what house Ike Barry represented.
"I am sorry you did not let him know you were coming, so he would have been here. We do need goods. Trade has been good lately and we are out of a great many things," she replied, much relieved at being able to fix my status. She continued, "Have you ever seen our store? We have made it bigger lately and have much more room. Come in and I will show you."
I saw danger in this. She might ask me prices. If she did I was stumped. But I walked along with her through the store, she pointing out empty shelves and enumerating articles wanted, showing a precocious knowledge of goods, but, continuing her rôle of hostess, talking freely.
"You see, Daddy makes friends with everyone, especially the fishermen, and they come here instead of going to Key West as they used to. They say we sell for less, and all on the Gulf side trade at our store. We have been a long time building up our business. Daddy is very proud of it and likes to give them good things, just what they want," she said, with a naïvetté delightfully refreshing.
I don't know why I stared at the child so long. I was somehow beginning to like her. She interested me, and I began to feel as though I would hate to find anything wrong with her father to whom she referred so affectionately.
When we started back to the veranda I asked if she had any cigars. I was dying for a smoke.
"Our trade don't smoke cigars; they want only smoking and plug tobacco, but I can give you some out of Daddy's private box; he always keeps them for himself."
From a shelf she handed me a box and insisted on my taking enough to last a while, saying that it was her treat. I was surprised to see from the factory number they were an expensive popular brand made in New York.