“I would indeed,” said Ginger sunnily; “seldom have I seen so blue a sky.”
Mr. Morley tipped her handsomely (the information apart, her smile was worth it), lifted his hat to her, and fled.
“How fast he’s going,” said Gypsy, from the very back of the Weatherhouse. “What did he give you, darling?”
“A half-sovereign!” gasped Ginger. “A real old-fashioned half-sovereign!”
“No wonder he’s running,” said Gypsy. “But we must get it changed somehow.”
“Oh, must we?” pleaded Ginger.
“Think of the Pillar-Box,” said Ginger firmly. So they bought an evening newspaper which they didn’t want, and told the Evening Newsboy to let the children know there’d be a party in the Square during the small hours. Then they put the pennies in the Pillar-Box. They had had several other customers that day, and the Pound was nearly reached.
At ten minutes to seven an old lady in a black bonnet and corkscrew curls stepped up to ask the weather.
“Set fair, madam,” said Ginger.
“How much will that be?” said the old lady.