The children stood listlessly at the corner, waiting for Joshua. Their hearts were heavy with disappointment at the failure of their plan. Even the thought that he would now have his money for peanuts at the circus failed to console Christopher, who had screwed himself up to the heroic point of self-denial.
Jane watched the people buying at the provision shop. They got all sorts of things: some bought several kinds of vegetables and meat, which they carried away in a basket; others bought small quantities, wrapped in paper bags. Presently a woman bought a small bag of apples which suggested to Jane that they might be able to do the same thing.
“Kit,” she said, “I think by a basket the man meant one of those great big baskets. Surely they hold more than half a bushel?”
“Don’t know how much half a bushel is,” replied Christopher, toeing the path with his boot.
“Well, I’m sure we didn’t eat as many as one of those basketfuls, anyhow. Just look at the size of it.”
“We stuffed a lot of ’em.”
“Well, anyway, let’s get as many as our money’ll buy,” proposed Jane. “We can buy any number ’cause I just saw a woman get some in a paper bag. It’ll show grandfather we are sorry and want to pay back, and perhaps Huldah was wrong about the half bushel.”
“Well, you’ll have to do the asking then,” said Christopher ungallantly. “That man is horrid. He thinks we’re nothing but kids.”
They approached the provision man again, who happened at that moment not to be occupied.
“How much—I mean, how many apples will thirty cents buy, please, sir?” asked Jane.