“Don’t be disrespectful of my tree!” returned Flip Henderson, who was assisting his mother at this very tree. “This is a Date Palm, and I rigged it myself. Isn’t it fine?”
The tree was picturesque, though comical, and a vivid imagination could think that it resembled a date palm from the tropics.
“What do you sell?” asked Delight; “dates?”
“Yes,” replied Flip. “But not dates to eat. We have calendars, and diaries, and memorandum blocks, and year-books of the best authors. Want a few?”
“Not now,” said Marjorie; “I’ve only two dollars to spend, and I want to see the other tables—trees, I mean—before I decide what I’ll buy.”
“And we must go on, and see the trees, so we can go to our own,” said Delight.
Hand-in-hand, the two girls went round the room, looking at the novel sights.
In a grove of Rubber Trees, many sorts of rubber goods were sold.
Under a beautiful tree, loaded with cherry-blossoms, Japanese maidens dispensed tea, and sold fans and paper parasols.
The Cork Tree was most amusing. Corks dangled from its branches, and stuck on the ends of its twigs. On its counter were sold bottles of perfume, of ink, of shoe dressing, of mucilage, everything, in fact, which could be corked in a bottle.