"Good night," said the Watermelon.
"Good night," said Billy, and lingered.
Then she laid her hand on his arm and spoke in a rush. "Oh, Jerry, please don't worry. If you want any money, father has heaps. You can have all you want."
The Watermelon drew a bit nearer. "Billy, Billy," said he softly.
"I think it must be terrible to worry about money," Billy hurried on. "It's not worth it."
"I'm not worrying about money, kid," said the Watermelon with a laugh. "I have a bunch. What made you think I was?"
"Twice to-night you've counted your money."
"Esau's bowl of pottage," sneered the Watermelon, turning unconsciously to the old familiarity with the Bible. "Say, Billy, if he found he didn't like his pottage, could he give it back and get his birthright again?"
Billy blushed. She was not sure who Esau was. In a dim way she remembered the name and vaguely associated it with the Bible. "Couldn't he have gotten something else?" she asked judiciously.
"No," said the Watermelon. "He had nothing more to sell."