The three Steppe children stood in the centre aisle of the local department store, in a state of unembarrassed good humour, while Peggy and Elizabeth drew apart in consultation. The saleswoman busied herself with folding up a series of small garments that had been discussed and rejected by the two young shoppers.
"Six dollars and thirty-three cents, and a stamp." Elizabeth counted the contents of her purse again, distractedly. "Your three dollars and my three, and the thirty-three cents we both saved on ice-cream cones, and the stamp makes it thirty-five. I had no idea that children's clothes were so expensive. We can hardly buy shoes for them."
"Well, they can't go to that supper unless they have shoes. Look at their feet, Elizabeth—I mean Elspeth——"
"I know it," Elizabeth said, colloquially.
"I want to go to bean supper," Madget wailed. "I said I would go."
"Hush up, Baby," Mabel warned her, "you're in a apartment store. The lady will throw you right out the door if you don't be good and quiet."
Madget turned large, disturbed eyes on the lady indicated, and discovered in her calm countenance nothing to rouse alarm.
"I want to go to bean supper!" she wailed, even louder than before.
"We have some laced canvas shoes with rubber bottoms that are a dollar and a dollar and a half," the clerk volunteered. "You might get them for the little girls, and a pair of sneakers for the boy. We have them in black and brown," she added, with a hasty glance toward the grimy toes and scratched ankles protruding from his nondescript footwear. "We have stockings and socks that are reasonable, too."
"Well, let's get their feet covered," Peggy said, "and trust to luck for the rest."