"Well, my good man, since you are, after all, an honest peddler, just hand me that silk and don't ask me an unreasonable price for it, because I'm a judge of silks and I won't pay more than it is worth," said the old lady.
"Madam, I leave it to your own conscience! You shall give me just what you think it's worth."
"Humph! that's too fair by half! I begin to think this fellow is worse than he seems!" said Capitola to herself.
After a little hesitation a price was agreed upon and the dress bought.
Then the servants received permission to invest their little change in ribbons, handkerchiefs, tobacco, snuff, or whatever they thought they needed. When the purchases were all made and the peddler had done up his diminished pack and replaced his hat upon his head and was preparing to leave, Mrs. Condiment said:
"My good man, it is getting very late, and we do not like to see a traveler leave our house at this hour—pray remain until morning, and then, after an early breakfast, you can pursue your way in safety."
"Thank you kindly, ma'am, but I must be far on my road to-night," said the peddler.
"But, my good man, you are a stranger in this part of the country and don't know the danger you run," said the housekeeper.
"Danger, ma'am, in this quiet country?"
"Oh, dear, yes, my good man, particularly with your valuable pack—oh, my good gracious!" cried the old lady, with an appalled look.