“Fifty cents,” she said, “but you’d better buy the match box and get more for your money.”
“I didn’t mean that one,” protested Jacqueline. “I meant the one with green dragons, there on the shelf.”
“That old cup?”
“Yes, please. How much is it?”
Miss Crevey looked at her with hostile eyes.
“That’s more ’n you can pay,” she said flatly. “It’s worth five dollars, Mrs. Enos Trowbridge told me—five dollars, if it’s worth a cent. Run along now! I can’t waste my time tellin’ you the price of everything in the store.”
“I haven’t asked the price of everything,” Jacqueline retorted. “I only asked about the green-dragon cup. Let me look at it, will you please?”
So loftily did she speak, and so sure did she seem of herself, that Miss Crevey took the cup and saucer from the shelf although she grumbled a little as she did so.
“There they be!” she said, as she set them on the counter. “Don’t you go droppin’ them now!”
Luckily at that moment a young girl from upstreet stepped in, to buy a piece of tape, and some white hooks and eyes (she had to be contented with black) and some orange twist, though she finally took yellow. While Miss Crevey was making these small sales, Jacqueline had time to examine the dragon cup and saucer at leisure. Yes, they were of identically the same pattern as Grandma’s cups and saucers that were broken. Jacqueline couldn’t be mistaken. She had washed and dried them too often. Aunt Martha had told her that such china couldn’t be had now for love nor money, but here it was, the very cup she wanted—Grandma’s cup!