Blinky reluctantly pried a nickel loose from his finances and placed it on the counter. Duncan regarded it with disdain.
"Ten cents more, please," he suggested tactfully.
"What for?"
"Plain sody." The explanation was accompanied by a very passable imitation of Blinky's blink.
Happily for Duncan, Blinky has no sense of humour: if he had he would explode the very first time he indulged in introspection.
"Not much," said he with his sour smile. "I guess you're jokin'.... Well, good luck to you, Mr. Duncan. I'd like to have you come round and see us some evenin'."
"Thank you very much, sir." Duncan accompanied Blinky to the door. "I've already had the pleasure of meeting your daughter, sir. She's a charming girl."
"I'm real glad you think so," said Blinky, intensely gratified. "She seems to've taken a great shine to you, too. Come round and get 'quainted with the hull family. You're the sort of young feller I'd like her to know." He paused and looked Nat up and down captiously, as one might appraise the points of a horse of quality put up for sale. "Good-day," said he, with the most significant of winks.
"Oh, that's all right," Nat hastened to reassure him. "I won't say a word about it."
Blinky, on the point of leaving, started to question this (to him) cryptic utterance, but luckily had the current of his thoughts diverted by the entrance of Roland Barnette, in company with his friend Mr. Burnham.