“Ge!” I exclaimed, “I have it.” And off I started. Charley, my brother, owned an old-fashioned silver watch, one of those old “English levers.” He thought a great deal of it as a keep-sake and always gave it to me to keep when he was going into action. I had this watch now, and made up my mind I would trade it to the “fakir” and get a lot of pies for us all. Oh! such bright anticipations of hot mince pies. I could almost see them floating in the air as big as cart wheels, and fearing they would all be sold before I could reach the wagon, I ran as hard as I could. The crowd had thinned out and so had the pies. “How many have you got left?” I eagerly asked. “Oh, plenty,” he replied; “how many, do you want?” “Well,” I said, nearly out of breath, “I haven’t any money, but I want all you have, and I’ll trade you a nice watch for them.”
“Say, cully! what yer givin’ me? I don’t want no watch. Let’s see it.”
I quickly passed it up to him, and stood working my fingers and feet impatiently and revolving in my mind how many pies he would give me and how I would manage to carry them back, when he broke out into a loud, contemptuous laugh, and passed the watch back.
“Say, young fellow, that aint no good. I’d rather have a blacking box than that thing.”
“It’s silver,” I replied.
“That don’t make no difference. I’ll give you one pie for the thing if you want it, see!”
I turned the watch over and over in my hand, my feelings hurt and my stomach disappointed. Then I thought of my brother, forgot that it was his high-priced time-piece, and quickly said:
“Give me the pie and take the watch.”
He did so, and away I started on the dead run, I could hardly resist the temptation of biting the pie; but just before I reached the regiment, and in full sight of my brother, I stumbled and fell, smashing the pie into the dirt and mud. I picked myself up, looked at the crushed pie, and the tears started in my eyes; but only for a moment. I brushed them away, gathered up the pieces and hurried to my brother. We rubbed the mud from the pieces the best we could, and devoured them with a hearty relish. After the pie was gone, I regretted the bargain that I had made. Pie and watch both gone. Remorse took possession of me. I felt guilty; I was conscience-stricken. I was unsatisfied; no more time, no more pie.
“Gosh, that pie was good, wasn’t it, ‘Pod’?” This was a nickname my brother was pleased to call me by.