“Oh Goody-Gumpkins!” cried Rollo, for which his mother gently reproved him.
“I should love it,” said he. “You are so kind, and I am so glad you are a broker, Uncle George, for you always seem to have plenty of time.”
“Nothing but,” said Uncle George. “But come, if we are going, let us be off at once.”
“Hurrah,” cried Rollo. “Good-bye, Mother!” and seizing his cap and thrusting his clam-shell into his pocket, he ran to join his uncle in the doorway.
“How do we go? Is it far?” he questioned when they had reached the street.
“We may as well take the stage,” said his uncle. “It goes directly to the Village.”
Rollo’s uncle raised his hand and the stage stopped politely.
“Thank you,” said Rollo as they climbed to the top. Soon the conductor came to them and held out a little machine, which seemed to nibble Rollo’s fingers when he pushed the two dimes which his uncle had given him into the slot.
“He cannot hoodwink me,” said Rollo after the conductor had gone away. “I saw the money drop through into his hand.”