“Yes, but Mr. Parsons is too tony now to shoe horses. He makes wagons an’ keeps summer boarders.”
“Hello, Jones has got a partner. My, but they used to have good sarsaparilla there,” exclaimed Christopher, smacking his lips.
“They do still,” answered Perk, smacking his.
“I’ll treat you some time. I’m to have fifteen cents a week pocket money all summer, an’ so’s Jane. Hi, there’s a new store. Say, it’s a dandy.”
“It’s a newspaper office up-stairs. Downstairs they have a store where nothin’ costs more’n ten cents; and lots of things cost only five. Ain’t that a queer sort of store?”
“Not so queer as I’ve seen. Why, they’ve got a store in the city where everything costs ninety-nine cents. My mother’d never let me buy there, but they had mighty pretty things in the windows. Painted plates and things. Lots of people go there because they think it’s so much cheaper than a dollar. Aren’t some people silly?”
They had turned out of the village by this time into the country road which led to Sunnycrest.
“Do you play marbles?” asked Christopher, patting a bag of beloved alleys in his trousers pocket.
“Naw—that’s a kid’s game,” said Perk contemptuously. He was feeling a trifle sore over the fact that this boy, so much younger than he, had ridden in an automobile and had seen a ninety-nine-cent store.
Christopher withdrew his hand suddenly from his pocket.