"This is my lucky day," smiled Eliza as Tom fumbled in his pocket. "I'm sure I shall love it."
"It ain't much, but it was the best in the crate and I shined it up on my towel." Mr. Slater handed Eliza a fine red apple of prodigious size, at sight of which the girl turned pale.
"I—don't like apples," she cried, faintly.
"Never mind; they're good for your complexion."
"I'd die before I'd eat one."
"Then I'll eat it for you; my complexion ain't what it was before I had the smallpox." When he had carried out this intention and subjected his teeth to a process of vacuum-cleaning, he asked: "Say, what happened to your friend who chewed gum?"
"Well, he was hardly a friend," Miss Appleton said, "If he had been a real friend he would have listened to my warning."
"Gum never hurt anybody," Slater averred, argumentatively.
"Not ordinary gum. But you see, he chewed nothing except wintergreen—"
"That's what I chew."