"Yes, it does. What's your booth, Elise?"
"It isn't exactly a booth. I'm going to have a log cabin,—a real one, built just as I've planned it, and in it I'm going to sell all sorts of old-fashioned things."
"Antiques?"
"Yes, of the proper sort. Old Willow china and Sheffield plate. Copper lustre tea-sets and homespun bedspreads. And samplers! Oh, Azalea, I've three or four stunning samplers! One is dated 1812. That ought to bring a fine price."
"I don't know about samplers. Of course, I know what they are,—but what makes them valuable?"
"Age, my dear. And authoritative dates. People make collections of old samplers, and those who collect will spend 'most anything for a good specimen."
"I've one that my grandmother made,—at least, I can get it. Would you like it?"
"Would I? Indeed I would! But you ought to keep that, Azalea. My, what a generous girl you are! You'd give away your head, if it weren't fastened on! No, dear child, keep your grandmother's sampler yourself. Is it a good one?"
"I don't know what a 'good' one is. It has flowers on it, and little people,—queer ones,—and a long verse of poetry and an alphabet of letters."
"And the date?"