“That’s for me and Serepty. Come on, Silas. Shell out.”
Link flipped a coin into the hat. “There’s a quarter. Now you can change that dollar for—er—for Ollie’s brother-in-law.”
“After all, it is a harmless experiment,” announced Mr. Sage, but dubiously, “and it may prove diverting. In any case, my dear, we will not miss the—er—the—the thirty-five cents.” As he dropped the coins into the hat, he leaned over and whispered in her ear: “There goes the jar of cold cream you were wanting, my dear.”
Oliver October’s parent was embarrassed. “It ain’t right for you folks to be squandering all this money on account of little Oliver October. You can’t afford it. ’Specially Horace.”
“What’s that?” snapped Mr. Gooch, reddening. “What do you think I am? A pauper?” With that he tossed a silver dollar into the hat. “That’s the kind of a sport I am.”
“Oh, Horace!” cried his wife, starting. “That was a dollar.”
“I know it was. Why?”
“Oh—nothing. Only—only you acted as if it was a dime.”
“How much you got, Joe?” inquired Silas.
“Two-ten. Put your money back in your pocket, Ollie. She ought to tell all our fortunes for two-ten.”