"Shore?" cried Candace, surveying him with anxious eyes.
"Sure," said Ben, not taking off the gaze of his blue ones.
Candace's arms fell away to her sides. "Well, if yer promises me, Mas'r Ben, I know it's all right. Now you mus' hab some candy sticks," and she lifted off the cover of the big glass jar.
"I'll find your thimble first," said Ben, getting down on his knees to lift the gay flowered calico curtain that hung from the counter-edge.
This was easier said than done, for the big horn thimble, now that it had gotten away from Candace's black finger, decided to take a holiday. So although Ben prowled and peered around amid the boxes and bundles beneath the counter, he couldn't lay his hand on the runaway. Seeing which, Polly decided to begin the trade by which she could be the possessor of another little pincushion to take the place of the one just spoiled by Jocko. So Candace handed down the box containing them, and together they searched through it for something that would fit the need.
"I'm going to make Jasper another one, you know," said Polly, "but I must buy him something to use right away."
"Well, I got some perfec' beauties," said Candace, lifting out a flaming yellow one with great delight. "See dar now, Miss Polly, did you eber know I had dat in my shop?"
"No," said Polly. Then she searched the corner of the box and pulled out another, but it was a faded green one, very dismal, and quite tired looking.
"Now dat was made out o' one ob my ole missus's bunnet strings," said Candace, raising it with a quick hand. "It's a bery special ribbin. Ain' dat fine, dough?" She balanced it on her black hand, lost in admiration.
"I don't believe I want a green one," said Polly.