“But it’s riding, all the same, Bon! Let’s play pretend it’s our own carriage and we have been down town to buy a horse.”
“No; a house in the country.”
“Horses too. An’ we’re goin’ ter live ‘swell’ forever after. We’re goin’ ter have turkey every day.”
“Every other day, dear; it would be better for our digestion.”
“What’s digestion?”
“It is the one thing which the impecunious young Beckwiths have in perfection.”
“Pooh! What’s the use of saying words a mile long? An’ why don’t you give a real answer?”
“I like to use long words. It’s the only luxury I can afford. And the real answer is, the prime condition of our ‘insides,’ which allow us to eat anything from ‘A to Izzard.’ There, let’s get out at this corner. I want to invest a little of my money in a few oysters for Motherkin, as well as to pay you the seventy-five cents I promised.”
They dismissed the cab at the corner of Third Avenue and hurried into the nearest market, where Bonny selected with utmost care a dozen of the very finest “bivalves” she could find; but when she offered the promised reward to her little brother he surprised her by refusing to take it.
“Why, Bob! Why not? Are you ill? What is the matter?”