“Well, Turner,” he greeted, “this affair looks like a huge success, doesn’t it? Why aren’t you young folks inside there, dancing?”
“I don’t dance, sir,” answered Laurie, somewhat to his chagrin in a most apologetic tone. “And Polly thinks she ought to stand by the ship. This is Polly Deane, Mr. Starling.”
Bob’s father shook hands cordially across the depleted counter and assured its proprietor that he was very glad indeed to make her acquaintance. Then he added: “But you don’t seem to have much left, Miss Polly. Now, I’m a great hand at a bargain. I dare say that if you made me a fair price for what there is here I’d jump at it. What do you say?”
Polly apparently didn’t know just what to say for a minute, and her gaze sought counsel of Laurie.
“If you ask me,” laughed the latter, “I’d say fifty cents was a big price for the lot!”
“You’re not in charge,” said Mr. Starling, almost severely. “I’m sure the young lady has better business ability. Suppose you name a price, Miss Polly.”
“We-ell—” Polly did some mental arithmetic, and then, doubtfully: “A dollar and a half, sir,” she said.
“Done!” replied Mr. Starling. He drew forth a two-dollar bill. “There you are! Just leave the things where they are. I’ll look after them later. Now you youngsters go in and dance. What’s this? Change? My dear young lady, don’t you know that change is never given at an affair of this kind? I really couldn’t think of taking it. It—it’s a criminal offense!” And Mr. Starling nodded and walked away.
“By Jove, he’s a brick!” exclaimed Laurie, warmly. “Look, he’s doing the same thing everywhere!”
“I know,” answered Polly, watching. “It’s just dear of him, isn’t it? But, Nod, what do you suppose he will do with these awful pictures?”