A warning whistle from the up-going steamboat made the dignified Mr. Pore step lively. With admonitions to Annie to keep an eye to business and with a limp handshake to Sleepy and me, a peck of a kiss on Annie's white brow, he seized his ancient Gladstone bag and made for the landing. That bag must have been a leftover from the old days in England, and more precious it was in its owner's eyes than the finest new suitcase that money might buy.
All of us were relieved that he was gone. I giggled with joy and Annie smiled at Sleepy and me as she had not done since we arrived.
"All the gang is coming down soon to see you, honey. They would have come with us but we slipped off," said I, going behind the counter to hug my little friend. I always have had a way of calling Annie my little friend, which is most absurd as she is inches taller than I am, but there has been a feeling somehow that she must be protected, and persons who must be protected seem little even when they are big.
"Gee, I wish I could take you on a little drive before they come!" exclaimed Sleepy.
"That is very kind of you but of course I can't leave the shop," sighed Annie.
"Yes, you can! I am here!"
"But I wouldn't let you keep shop for me," laughed Annie.
"I'd like to know why not—I bet I can sell more things than you can. Just you try me."
"It isn't that! I just couldn't let you. It is something I have to do but it is not right for you to do it."
"Such nonsense! You just put on your hat and go with Sleepy. How do you know what is the price of things?"