“I meant—almost new,” Holly stammered.
“Are you Mr. Sammis? Will you let us see what you have, please?” Judy asked.
He showed them a row of ancient typewriters in the back of the shop. They were all of the same make, and all were equally old and dusty.
“There aren’t any others?” Holly’s voice held disappointment.
“No, that’s all we have.”
His tone of voice plainly told the girls he wished they’d go, but Judy wasn’t ready to leave until she had done a little more exploring.
“I’m collecting old cards and calendars for a library exhibit,” she explained. “Do you have anything I can use?”
“In the box over there. But don’t be all day looking them over. Your car’s parked right in front of mine.”
Mr. Sammis had just seen it through the window.
“Oh, is that your car?” Judy asked innocently. “We saw a boy driving it this morning.”