“Where will you have the eggs, Mr. Gardiner?” he called, kicking the door shut with his heel.
“Just set the case down, Mr. Mandle, we will attend to them,” but the obliging Mr. Mandle insisted on carrying it to the rear of the store.
“The missus will be in in a minute, an’ fight it out with ye,” announced Mr. Mandle. “She got off at the post-office. She’s wantin’ a bit coat, an’ she’s been writin’ to the city for prices, an’ I’m thinkin’ she’s expectin’ an answer to-day. But just let me have half a pound of MacDonald chewin’ an’ she can do as she likes with the rest.”
In a few minutes Mrs. Mandle appeared, and was promptly taken in hand by Gardiner. The selling of the coat was, as he expected, a difficult matter, but she was finally persuaded that a regular $24.50 coat at $20 was good buying. The price-tag, which Gardiner had deftly slipped off the coat before showing it, was marked $18.
“I suppose it isn’t necessary to ask you,” said the merchant, after the purchases had been wrapped up, “but, just to assure ourselves, those eggs are all quite fresh, aren’t they?”
“Fresh? My goodness, there isn’t one of them ten days old. Our hens are laying wonderful for this time of the year.”
“That’s what comes of understanding poultry,” remarked Gardiner. But as soon as his customer was gone he told Burton to take the eggs down to the cellar and candle them.
“She sold me a six-pound block of ice in a tub of butter once, and I’ve watched her ever since,” he explained.
When Burton had finished his task he reported.
“Two dozen and a half bad, and six dozen short. There were two layers without any eggs in them.”