The older one’s scowl deepened.
“Plain robbery, that’s what! Calc’late though I’ve got to stand fur it.”
Scoop gave me a dig in the ribs with his elbow.
“Fifteen cents,” he whispered in my ear, “is better than ten cents. I figured that we could hook him for the extra nickel.”
We went to the buggy and our new employer gave each of us four boxes of soap, twelve boxes in all. “Bubbles of Beauty” was printed on the covers in gold lettering.
“You ought to have it all sold by noon,” he said.
“Where’ll we find you when we want to settle up?” inquired Scoop.
“You boys live in Tutter, I take it.”
Our leader nodded.
“As you go into town on this road,” the man pointed, “there’s a big red brick house on the right-hand side with a yardful of pine trees.”