Two wide-open mouths was all the clerk could see as he glanced down. The children were too amazed to speak for a moment.
“Seventy-five cents!” faltered Cricket, at last.
“Seventy-five cents!” echoed Hilda, blankly.
And they turned and stared at each other, not knowing what to say next.
“Come, do you want it?” asked the clerk, yawning. “Don’t be all night about deciding.”
“Is—is that all it’s worth?” at last ventured Cricket, her round little face really long with the disappointment.
“Really, now, that’s a pretty liberal offer,” said the clerk, assuming a confidential air. “Come, decide,” tapping the ring indifferently on the counter.
“Wouldn’t any one give me any more for it?” persisted Cricket.
“Hardly think it. Why, like as not the next person you go to might not offer you a cent more than fifty. We always do things of honour here. Liberal old bird, the boss is,” with a sly wink that half frightened the children. “Highest prices paid here for second-hand jewelry. Don’t you see the sign?” with a backward wave of his hand toward a placard on the wall.
Hilda and Cricket exchanged glances. Hilda nodded, and Cricket said, with a sigh that came from her very boots: