“How-de, Mister Merrivale?” Calvin sprang to his feet.
“If it ain’t lil’ Nella-Rose. How’se you-all?”
“Right smart. I’ve brought you three dozen eggs and ten pounds of pork.” Nella-Rose almost said po’k—not quite! “And you must be mighty generous with me when you weigh out—let me see!—oh, yes, pepper, salt, and sugar.”
“I’ll lay a siftin’ more in the scale, Nella-Rose, on ’count o’ yo’ enjoyin’ ways. But I can’t make this out”—he was counting the eggs—“yo’ said three dozen aigs?”
“Three dozen, and ten pounds of pork!” This very firmly.
Merrivale counted again and as he did so Nella-Rose remembered! The red came to her face—the tears to her ashamed eyes.
“Stop!” she said softly, going close to the old man. “I forgot. I took one dozen out!”
Merrivale stood and looked at her and then, what he thought was understanding, came to his assistance.
“Who fo’, Nella-Rose, who fo’?”
There was no reply to this.