Wilford produced a jack-knife in very good repair.
Patsey stopped beating time, though only for an instant. It does not do to be too keen.
"It's a good un," Wilford said with pride. "It's a Rodger, mind ye—two blades."
"Name yer price," Patsey condescended, after a deliberate examination.
"Lemme ride all week, ord'rin' and deliv'rin'."
"Not much, I won't," Patsey declared stoutly. "You can ride three days for it."
Wilford began to whimper, but just then the butcher cart whirled around the corner.
Wilford ran toward it. Patsey held the knife.
The butcher stopped and let Wilford mount. It was all one to the butcher. He knew he usually got a boy at this corner.
Patsey ran after the butcher cart. He had caught sight of someone whom Wilford had not yet noticed. It was Mrs. Ducker. Mrs. Ducker had been down the street ordering a crate of pears. Mrs. Ducker was just as particular about pears as she was about final g's, so she had gone herself to select them.