‘A percentage. Yes, I see,’ said the butcher, looking at the hole in the carpet.
‘You see there are reasons,’ Alice went on, ‘why we want to make our fortunes as quickly as we can.’
‘Quite so,’ said the butcher, and he looked at the place where the paper is coming off the wall.
‘And this seems a good way,’ Alice went on. ‘We paid two shillings for the sample and instructions, and it says you can make two pounds a week easily in your leisure time.’
‘I’m sure I hope you may, miss,’ said the butcher. And Alice said again would he buy some?
‘Sherry is my favourite wine,’ he said. Alice asked him to have some more to drink.
‘No, thank you, miss,’ he said; ‘it’s my favourite wine, but it doesn’t agree with me; not the least bit. But I’ve an uncle drinks it. Suppose I ordered him half a dozen for a Christmas present? Well, miss, here’s the shilling commission, anyway,’ and he pulled out a handful of money and gave her the shilling.
‘But I thought the wine people paid that,’ Alice said.
But the butcher said not on half-dozens they didn’t. Then he said he didn’t think he’d wait any longer for Father—but would Alice ask Father to write him?
Alice offered him the sherry again, but he said something about ‘Not for worlds!’—and then she let him out and came back to us with the shilling, and said, ‘How’s that?’