Sube drew back in astonishment. "Arrested?" he gasped. "What for?"
The second-hand man shrugged his shoulders. "Vell, I donno. Mebbe you buy it. Mebbe you steal it. I donno. I make no offers for dis t'ings"—he waved a knotted hand towards the interior of the barn—"but mebbe I buy dem shoes y'got on; how mooch y'vant for dem?"
With conscious pride Sube glanced down at his feet and replied, "They're not for sale. It's the only pair I got that fits me."
The second-hand man turned away with another shrug of his rounded shoulders. "Vell, if your popper or your mommer he say all right, vy, den ve talk pizness."
Sube was very much put out. "My popper and my mommer ain't got a dern thing to do with this prope'ty," he growled. "It's mine, I tell you!"
"Vell, goo'-bye. Mebbe I come see you some odder day," said the second-hand man smiling pleasantly through his sparse beard as he started down the driveway.
The boys were still looking helplessly at each other when he climbed into his ramshackle wagon and drove away. At last Sube burst out angrily, "He thought we stole it! What do you know about that?"
"I know we got all this stuff on our hands," muttered Gizzard, "and I wisht it was in Halifax!"
"But he thought we stole it!" Sube persisted. "As if we'd steal an'thing."
"We didn't steal it," Gizzard agreed; "but here it is, and what are we goin' to do with it? That's what I wanta know."