“And there’s a Persian kitten,” added Madeline. “Poor little pussy! She looks frightened half to death.”
“And hats and furs,” put in Betty.
“And jewelry. Betty, I’ll buy you a penny pin as a memento. Choose.”
Betty chose a brooch consisting of a very realistic red raspberry and two green leaves. “Thank you,” she said, “and isn’t that a lustre-ware pitcher?”
It was, and it was in the collection of a man who was crying, “Whatever-ye-like at yer own price,” at the top of his lungs.
“A shilling,” Madeline offered boldly, pointing to the pitcher.
“Three,” retorted the man decisively.
“But you just said, ‘Whatever you like at your own price,’” Madeline reminded him.
The man winked cheerfully. “Any of this rubbish, ma’am, I mean.” He picked up a handful of the rusty nails. “You want only the good things. The pitcher’s a bargain at three bob.”
“Have you any Staffordshire figures?” asked Madeline.