“Won’t the pretty little ladies give the poor old Gypsy woman half a dollar for the basket?”
The little girls lost hope. They were not allowed to break into their banks for any purpose without asking Ruth’s permission, and their monthly stipend of pocket money was very low.
“It is a very nice basket, little ladies,” said the younger Gypsy woman—she who was so gayly dressed and gaudily bejeweled.
“I know,” Tess admitted wistfully. “But if we haven’t so much money, how can we buy it?”
“Say!” interrupted the amateur joey, hands in pockets and viewing the controversy quite as an outsider. “Say, Tess! if you and Dot really want that old basket, I’ve got two-bits I’ll lend you.”
“Oh, Sammy!” gasped Dot. “A whole quarter?”
“Have you got it here with you?” Tess asked.
“Yep,” announced the boy.
“I don’t think Ruth would mind our borrowing twenty-five cents of you, Sammy,” said Tess, slowly.
“Of course not,” urged Dot. “Why, Sammy is just like one of the family.”