“Very well, we’ll take the seventy-five cents, if that’s all you can give us for it.”
“Positively all. Fortunate you came here, or you wouldn’t have gotten that,” said the clerk, counting out three new quarters into Cricket’s hand.
“Shine’s thrown in,” he said, facetiously, as the children soberly thanked him and walked out of the store, feeling very uncomfortable somehow.
“What a horrid man!” exclaimed Cricket, as they reached the sidewalk and drew a long breath. “Wasn’t he the most winkable creature you ever saw? I suppose he thought he was funny.”
“Greasy old thing!” returned Hilda, both children being glad to vent their disappointment on some convenient object. “His finger-nails were as black as ink.”
But Cricket could not stay crushed long. In a moment the smiles began to creep up to her eyes, and spill over on to her cheeks, and finally reached her mouth.
“Oh, Hilda! it’s too funny,” she cried, with her rippling laugh. “We were going to take our bicycles home under our arms all so grand! Shall we order them to-night?”
“I’m just too mad for anything,” answered Hilda, whose sense of humour never equalled Cricket’s. “Seventy-five cents! the idea! for that beautiful gold ring!”
“I’ve another idea,” said Cricket, stopping short suddenly. “It isn’t worth putting seventy-five cents in the bank, is it? Let’s stop at that old peanut-woman’s stand and get some peanuts with the money. I think we’ll get a good many for seventy-five cents.”
And they certainly did. The old woman stared at the munificent order, but began to count out bags with great speed, lest they should change their minds.