It was with the greatest reluctance that he drew from his small hoard a dime, and, holding it between his thumb and finger as if unwilling to part with it, asked:—
“What do I get when I give you this?”
“Get? Why you have the chance of seein’ all there is here. What more do you want?” and without further ceremony the alleged collector took the money from Josiah’s fingers, walking rapidly away.
“Look here!” the latter shouted. “S’pose’n somebody else comes ’round collectin’ ten-cent pieces, how’ll they know I’ve paid?”
“That’ll be all right. I’m the only one at this end of the park,” and the boy hurried away as if fearing some of the pedestrians might inquire the meaning of this rather odd question.
“Well, it strikes me I’m goin’ it pretty stiff. It cost me fifteen cents in them boats, an’ now ten more’s twenty-five. If we’re goin’ to stay all day I sha’n’t have any money left when I get home,” Josiah said ruefully, and just at that instant a cry from the opposite side of the driveway caused him to spring to his feet.
“Why didn’t you keep close to us?” Bob asked with just a shade of petulance in his tones. “If you go to gettin’ lost this way we sha’n’t have any kind of a time, ’cause the whole day’ll be spent huntin’ for you.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Josiah replied penitently; “but while I was lookin’ at the stage you fellers got away. Say, why didn’t you tell me it cost ten cents to see this park?”
“Ten cents to see this park?” Bob repeated in bewilderment.
“Yes; that’s what I jest had to pay.”