“All right. Lead the way. And say, Melvin Cook, do one more nice thing, please. Forgive my darling Molly for the prank she played on you and be the same friendly way to her you’ve been to me.”
“Well, I’ll try. But I don’t promise I’ll succeed.”
They hurried back over the main street of the town to their inn, past the postoffice where a throng of tourists were still waiting for possible mail, past the little shops with their tempting display of “notions” representative of the locality, until they reached one window in which some silverware was exposed for sale.
Something within caught Melvin’s eye, and he laughed:
“Look there, miss.”
“Dorothy, please!”
“Look there, Dorothy! There’s your ‘Digby chicken’ with a vengeance!” and he pointed toward some trinkets the dealer was exhibiting to customers within. Among the articles a lot of tiny silver fish, labeled as he had said, and made in some way with a spring so that they wriggled from the tip of a pin, or guard, in typical fish-fashion.
“Oh! aren’t they cute! How I would like to buy one! Do you suppose they cost very much?” cried Dorothy, delighted.
“I’ll ask,” he said and did; and returning from the interior announced: “Fifty cents for the smallest one, seventy-five for the others.”
She sighed and her face fell. “Might as well be seventy-five dollars, so far as I’m concerned. I have exactly five cents, and I shouldn’t have had that only I found it left over in my jacket pocket. You see, once I had five dollars. How much is that in Nova Scotia money?”