"Cyrus Alton! How can you say such a thing?"
Kindly but sadly Uncle Hector looked down upon the boy.
"Tell the truth, Cyrus."
Cyrus, unabashed, met Uncle Hector's reproving gaze. He even smiled, as any honest man might smile, to show his spirit was above defeat.
"I found it just now, right here on this counter."
Uncle Hector's face was still serious. "Are you sure it's your dollar?"
"Yes, sir. Findin's is keepin's."
Uncle Hector stroked his chin and twisted his mouth, as if wondering how to answer. "Well—er—if you should take one of those oranges and refuse to pay for it, and just walk away with it and say 'findin's is keepin's'—would that be all right?"
"No, sir, because I know they are for sale. This dollar wasn't."
Again Uncle Hector stroked his chain and twisted his mouth. And Cyrus smiled up at him, the smile of triumph. It was obvious, even to Ruth, that this opening skirmish was a victory for Cyrus. She also smiled up at Uncle Hector and nodded, signifying that her escort was an able person.