One day a boy of about ten years old passed carelessly by, whistling as he went along, and swinging a carpenter’s rule in his hand. “Ha! what have we here?” cried he, stopping to read what was written on Piedro’s board. “This promises rarely. Old as I am, and tall of my age, which makes the matter worse, I am still as fond of sugar-plums as my little sister, who is five years younger than I. Come, Signor, fill me quick, for I’m in haste to taste them, two measures of the sweetest, largest, most admirable sugar-plums in Naples—one measure for myself and one for my little Rosetta.”
“You’ll pay for yourself and your sister, then,” said Piedro, “for no credit is given here.”
“No credit do I ask,” replied the lively boy; “when I told you I loved sugar-plums, did I tell you I loved them, or even my sister, so well as to run in debt for them? Here’s for myself, and here’s for my sister’s share,” said he, laying down his money; “and now for the burnt almonds gratis, my good fellow.”
“They are all out; I have been out of burnt almonds this great while,” said Piedro.
“Then why are they in your advertisement here?” said Carlo.
“I have not had time to scratch them out of the board.”
“What! not when you have, by your own account, been out of them a great while? I did not know it required so much time to blot out a few words—let us try”; and as he spoke, Carlo, for that was the name of Piedro’s new customer, pulled a bit of white chalk out of his pocket, and drew a broad score across the line on the board which promised burnt almonds gratis.
“You are most impatient,” said Piedro; “I shall have a fresh stock of almonds to-morrow.”
“Why must the board tell a lie to-day?”
“It would ruin me to alter it,” said Piedro.