“What is it, young ladies?” she asked, “can I sell you anything to-day?”
“Yes,” said Elise, gravely, “I was passing your window, and I noticed a doll there,—that one with the blue gingham dress. How much is it, please?”
“That one,” said the old lady, “is fifty cents. Seems sorter high, I know, but that ’ere doll was made by a blind girl, that lives a piece up the road; and though the sewin’ ain’t very good, it’s a nine-days’ wonder that she can do it at all. And them dolls is her only support, and land knows she don’t sell hardly any!”
“I’ll give you a dollar for it,” said Elise, impulsively, for her generous heart was touched. “Have you any more of them?”
“No,” said the woman, in some amazement. “Malviny, she don’t make many, ’cause they don’t sell very rapid. But be you goin’ her way? She might have one to home, purty nigh finished.”
“I don’t know,” said Elise, “where does she live?”
“Straight along, on the main road. You can’t miss it, an old yaller house, with the back burnt off.”
It was Patty’s turn now, and she said she would buy the peppermint candies that were in the window.
“All of ’em?” asked the storekeeper, in surprise.
“Yes,” said Patty, “all of them,” and as the old woman lifted the plate in from the window, Patty added, “And if you care to part with it, I’ll buy the plate too.”