"Three and sixpence, ma'am," replied the man.
"And the black ones, the little black shoes, I mean?"
"Two and six," replied the man.
"A shilling difference, you see, Ted," said his mother. But Ted only looked puzzled, and his mother, occupied with the boots, did not particularly notice him.
"I think," she said at last, "I think I will take both. But as the blue boots will be best ones for a good while, give me them half a size larger than the little black shoes."
The shopman proceeded to wrap them up in paper and handed them to Ted's mother, who took out her purse and paid the money. The man thanked her, and, followed by her little boy, Ted's mother left the shop.
Ted walked on silently, a very unusual state of things. He was trying to find out how to express what he wanted to ask, and the ideas in his head were so new and strange that he could not fit them with words all at once. His mother turned round to him.
"Would you like to carry the parcel of baby's shoes for her?" she said.
"Oh ses," said Ted, holding out his left hand. But as his mother was giving him the parcel she noticed that his right hand was already engaged.
"Why, what have you got there?" she asked, "a stone? Where did you get it? No, it's not a stone—why, can it be a lump of soda?"