"I'll take it at a dollar," said Mrs. Oleander. "Sally, that piece of brown merino would just suit you."
"Makes up lovely, ma'am," said the peddler, turning to Sally; "only four dollars for the hull piece. Jest feel of it—soft as a baby's skin. Halloo! miss, what can I do for you?"
This last to Susan Sharpe, who had set down her basket, and was looking on.
"Nothing," replied Susan, with asperity.
"Oh, now, don't you say that!" exclaimed this persuasive man; "you do want suthin'—lots o' things—I kin see it in them air sparklin' eyes o' your'n. What makes you wear green glasses. See here, I've blue, and white, and fancy colors, with silver straddles for the nose. Do look at 'em—there's a love!"
Mrs. Oleander laughed, and Mrs. Sharpe so far unbent her austerity as to kneel down and begin rummaging the miscellaneous articles.
The peddler's quick eye never left her hands; and when he heard the tiny click of something falling, an intelligent flash shot from him to the obnoxious green glasses.
"I want a thimble," said Mrs. Sharpe, with phlegm. "I've lost mine. How much do you ask for these here, mister?"
"Three cents apiece."
Susan paid down the three cents, pocketed the brass thimble, and slowly rose.