“Dollar a box, Miss. They always come high the first o’ the season, you know; they were a dollar-ten only yesterday.”
“Do you think your sick mother would enjoy them?” Lulu asked, turning to Susan, who was looking aghast at the price named.
“Oh, yes, indeed, Miss; but—but it’s too much for you to give; we have hardly so much as that to spend on a week’s victuals.”
“Then I’m sure you ought to have a few luxuries for once,” said Lulu. “I’ll take a box for her,” addressing the man, and taking out her purse as she spoke.
“A dozen of those oranges, too, a pound of your nicest crackers, and one of sugar to eat with the berries,” said Max, producing his porte-monnaie.
They saw the articles put up, paid for them, put them into Susan’s hands, and hurried on their way, followed by her grateful looks.
In trembling, tearful tones she had tried to thank them, but they would not stay to listen.
“How glad she was,” said Lulu. “And no wonder, for she looks half starved. And, O Max, just think, if we hadn’t a father to take care of and provide for us we might be as poor and distressed as she is!”
“That’s so,” returned Max; “we’ve hardly a thing worth having that hasn’t come to us through my father.”
“My father, sir,” asserted Lulu, giving him a laughing glance.