"Sure! A quart enough?" was the answer, and Ward managed to say he thought a quart would be enough.
"Here, what are you trying to do?" asked the man, as Ward took the bag of peanuts and started to walk away. "Fifteen cents, young feller."
"But I have a pass," Ward said, his face scarlet. "I showed it to you and you said it was all right."
"I thought it was a dollar bill," declared the fat man. "What's a pass to me? I don't care if the manager did give it to you, he doesn't own my peanuts and popcorn. I pay him rent for this stand, and what I sell is my own. See?"
Ward never, by any chance, having a cent in his pockets, Fred paid for the peanuts and as several people had stopped to listen, Ward was glad to get away.
"I'm awfully sorry, Ward," Margy apologized, feeling she was responsible for the fat boy's trouble. "I thought he said it was good for everything."
"Refreshment stands are different, I guess," said Jess. "I don't believe you can ever get anything to eat on a pass. Here's the place to have your fortune told, Polly."
Polly looked eagerly. She saw a black tent, the front plastered with queer signs cut out of red cloth. Suns and stars and moons were freely sprinkled over the sides of the tent, too. The signs on the front flaps were the zodiac signs, though Polly did not know that.
"I don't believe you can go in on a pass," said Ward. "You'd better not try."