“Six cents apiece,” said Polly. “Do you want them in a bag?”
“No, thanks.” Ned handed one of the cakes to Laurie; “we’ll eat them now.” Then, between mouthfuls; “Maybe you’d better charge this to us. If we’re going to open an account, we might as well do it now, don’t you think?”
Polly retired behind a counter and produced a long and narrow book, from which dangled a lead pencil at the end of a string. She put the tip of the pencil between her lips and looked across. “You’d better tell me your full names, I think.”
“Edward Anderson Turner and—”
“I meant just your first names.”
“Oh! Edward and Laurence. You can charge us each with two bottles and one cake.”
“I like that!” scoffed Laurie. “Thought you were treating to cakes?”
“Huh! Don’t you want to help Miss Comfort? I should think you’d like to—to do a charitable act once in a while.”
“Don’t see what difference it makes to her,” grumbled Laurie, “whether you pay for both or I pay for one. She gets her money just the same.”
Ned brushed a crumb from his jacket. “You don’t get the idea,” he replied gently. “Of course, I might pay for both, but you wouldn’t feel right about it, Laurie.”