"Five cents apiece."
"Gimme all the sizes you got. One of each. She might grow some, you know."
"Anything else?"
"Yep," returned Old Captain. "Suppose we match up them spools with some caliker—white with red spots, or blue, now. What do you say to that?"
"Right this way, sir," said the clerk, gladly turning her back in order to permit the suppressed giggles that were choking her, to escape.
The big Captain lumbered along in her wake, like a large scow towed by a small tug. He beamed in friendly fashion at the other customers; this dreaded shopping was proving less terrifying than he had feared. His pilot came to anchor near a table heaped with cheap print.
"We're having a sale on these goods," said she.
"What's the matter with 'em?" asked Old Captain, suspiciously.
"Why, nothing," replied the clerk. "They're all good. How much do you need? How many yards?"
"Well, just about three-quarters as much and a little over what it'd take for you. No need o' bein' stingy, an' we got to allow some for mistakes in cuttin' out."