"Don't know as I call that cheap."
"Yes," said Nicholas. "St. Michael, him fifty dollah."
The Boy looked doubtful.
"I saw a parki there at the A. C. Store about like this for twenty."
"A. C. parki, peeluck," Nicholas said contemptuously. Then patting the one his father held out, "You wear him fifty winter."
"Lord forbid! Anyhow, I've only got about twenty dollars' worth of tobacco and stuff along with me."
"Me come white camp," Nicholas volunteered. "Me get more fi' dollah."
"Oh, will you? Now, that's very kind of you." But Nicholas, impervious to irony, held out the parki. The Boy laughed, and took it. Nicholas stooped, picked up the fur mittens, and, laying them on the Boy's arm, reiterated his father's "Present!" and then departed to the Kachime to bring down the Boy's pack.
The Princess meanwhile had withdrawn to her own special corner, where in the daytime appeared only a roll of plaited mats, and a little, cheap, old hat-box, which she evidently prized most of all she had in the world.
"You see? Lock!"