“One ninety—— Say, how much do you charge a gallon?” exclaimed the other, incredulously.
“Twenty-two cents. This is the best there is.”
“Twenty-two! Why, I only paid twenty in New York the other day!”
“You were lucky,” drawled Toby. “It’s twenty-two here. What you got was low-grade, I guess.”
“Well, I don’t intend to pay any twenty-two cents. I’ll pay just what I paid in New York. Here’s two dollars, and I want twenty cents change.”
Toby, hands in pockets, paid no heed to the proffered bill. Instead he looked speculatively at the little round hole through which the gasoline had disappeared. “It’s going to be hard to get it out of there,” he mused. “Maybe we can do it with a pump, though.”
“Get it out? What for? Look here, twenty cents is enough and——”
“Not when the price is twenty-two,” replied Toby decidedly. “We charge the same as everywhere else here. You’d have paid twenty-two at the town landing just the same.”
“At the town landing! You said they didn’t keep it there!”
“No, sir, I didn’t. I said I didn’t see any.” Toby grinned. “And I didn’t, either. You can’t, from the float.”