“A check? Be you got a check book?”
“Of course,” says Poppy. “That’s a necessary part of running the business.”
“I swan! Boys runnin’ ’round with check books, when, gol ding it, I hain’t even got one myself.”
I jumped onto Poppy when we were outside.
“You sure are dumb.”
“What’s wrong now?” came the grin.
“To think that you should go and hire him.”
“I had to in order to get pickles.”
“But you said yourself that no one in Tutter would eat his pickles.”
“I said,” came the correction, “that pickles made in his home wouldn’t sell.”