Mr. Moss shook his head.
“Twopence an ounce cheapest,” he said.
William sighed.
“That’s awful dear,” he said.
“What isn’t dear? Tell me that. What isn’t dear?” said Mr. Moss lugubriously.
“Well, gimme two ounces. I’ll pay you to-morrow,” said William casually.
“Go on!” said William. “I get my money to-morrow. You know I get my money to-morrow.”
“Cash, young sir,” said Mr. Moss heavily. “My terms is cash. ’Owever,” he relented, “I’ll give you a few over when the scales is down to-morrow for a New Year’s gift.”
“Honest Injun?”