"Spool o' red cotton, number thirty."
"Ain't got no red."
"Green'll do."
"Ain't got green. Only black an' white."
"All right."
"Want black or white?"
"No."
Sol leaned against the counter. He wasn't busy; the girl seemed in no hurry; it was a good time to gossip and find out all about the strange creature perched on his sugar-barrel.
"Where'd ye come from?" he inquired.
"City," tossing her head toward the north.