“Oh, twenty or thirty dollars, I suppose, or something like that. Rings cost a lot,” answered Hilda, vaguely. “What shall we do with the money?”
“Buy a bicycle,” said Cricket, promptly. “Let’s each buy one. I’m crazy for a ‘bikachine,’ as Kenneth says.”
“So am I. What kind would you get?”
“They say the Humber is a pretty nice wheel,” said Cricket, reflectively; “but I guess that they cost too much, for I heard Donald say that he wanted one but couldn’t afford it. Perhaps we couldn’t get one of them, but we might each get a Columbia. Archie and Will have Columbias. Do you know how much they cost?” asked Cricket, who never had any more idea of the value of things than a cat. She had probably heard the price of a good bicycle mentioned scores of times, without its making the slightest impression upon her. Hilda, who, living alone with her mother and grandmother, never heard bicycles talked about, really did not know.
“I think the Columbias would do for us to learn on,” she said, patronisingly. “You can’t ride, can you?”
“Yes, I learned last fall on some of the girls’ wheels at school. It’s just as easy as pie. It’s so funny that people make so much fuss about learning. I like a boy’s wheel best, though. Wish I was on one this minute,” said Cricket, with a little skip.
“Now what else shall we get with the rest of the money?” asked Hilda.
“A bicycle for Eunice,” answered Cricket immediately. “Of course, mine would be part hers, but we couldn’t both ride at a time, unless I hung on behind, somehow. I suppose I might get a tandem.”
“Then you never could ride without somebody on behind,” said Hilda, sensibly; “and you might not always want it. No, I’d get a single wheel, if I were you. I think I’ll get a gold thimble with the rest of my half of the money.”
“I want a lot of new books,” said Cricket, characteristically. “I wish somebody would invent a book, that as fast as you read it would turn into another book that you haven’t read. Then you’d always have a new book to read. Will you get anything else?”