"I want three pounds of it. And then, father, I want two carrots and two onions; I'm going to make something nice."
Only sixty-eight cents of her precious money left!
"I did need some butter," she said mournfully, "and that in the tub looks nice, but I guess I can't afford it this time."
"How much is butter?" asked Mr. Decker, suddenly rising to the needs of the moment. "Twenty-five," said the grocer, shortly. He did not know the trim little woman who had paid for her carrots and onions, and held them in a paper bag at this moment, but he did know Joe Decker and had an account against him. He had no desire to sell him any butter.
"Then give me two pounds, and be quick about it." And Mr. Decker put down a dollar bill on the counter.
The man seized it promptly and began to arrange the butter in a neat wooden dish, while he said, "By the way, Mr. Decker, when will it be convenient to settle that little account?"
"I'll do it as soon as I can," said Mr. Decker, speaking low, for Nettie turned toward him startled; this was worse than she thought. She had not known of any accounts. Mr. Decker himself had forgotten it until he stood in the very door. It was months since he had bought groceries.
"Is it much, father?" Nettie asked, and he replied pettishly:
"Much? no. It is only a miserable little three dollars. I mean to pay it; he needn't be scared." Yet why he shouldn't be "scared," when he had asked for those three dollars perhaps fifty times, Mr. Decker did not say.