"Ten cents apiece," said Joel promptly. "I'll get change in a minute," and he was flying off again with the bill thrust into his hand.
"I don't take any change here. I don't want any; I won't be bothered with it," declared Mr. Cabot, in his most decided fashion.
"But this is ten dollars," said Joel, aghast, and stopping short to flap the bill.
"Never mind, that's my affair; go along, or I'll report you. Aren't you one of the postmen?"—pointing sternly to his badge.
"Yes," said Joel, straightening up, and puffing out his chubby cheeks with pride.
"Well, then, you'll find yourself reported if you don't march," cried Mr.
Cabot "So off with yourself to the postmaster."
"Come on, Joel," called another of the postmen, who happened to be Percy, rushing along. "I'm going to get my mail bag now, there's just a crowd of folks waiting over there for letters"—pointing over to the pine grove.
"So will I get mine," shouted Joel, "and see here"—waving his ten-dollar bill—"what Mr. Cabot sent to Jasper. I guess that'll send one poor child off into the country, Percy Whitney! Won't that be prime!"
There was such a crowd around the Wistaria-arbor post office, that Percy and Joel, who much preferred being letter-carriers to helping Jasper within, had to crawl in under the vines, to find the mail bags.
"Here, Jasper," cried Joel, "take it, do"—throwing the ten-dollar bill down in a flurry, to fling the strap of his mail bag over his head before Percy should get his in order.