“Crackers!” gasped Ikey. “Tell him what it is for, Hashmi. I haven’t the heart,” and he pretended to weep.
“This jar—he is for the holding of the petals of roses that were sent by your loved ones—the perfumes of Eros,” murmured the poetical Japanese.
“Oh, for the love of tripe! Hold me, I’m going to faint, Gertie!” cried Bob. “Rose petals from your loved ones! Oh, slush!”
“It is true,” and Hashmi did not seem to resent being laughed at. “But it would do for crackers as well.”
“How much?” asked Andy.
“Only five dollars—worth ten,” whispered Ikey.
“Well, it would look nice on my stand,” said Andy weakly. “I—I’ll take it.”
“And I guess you may as well wish me onto that dead ancestor jar,” added Dunk. “I’m always getting stuck anyhow. Seven plunks is getting off easy.”
“You will never regret it,” murmured Ikey. “Where is that paper, Hashmi? Now don’t you fellows let anyone else in on this game until I give the word. I’m taking care of my friends first, then the rest of the bunch. Friends first, say I.”
“Yes, if you’re going to stick anybody, stick your friends first,” laughed Dunk. “They’re the easiest. Go ahead, now you fellows bite,” and he looked at Bob, Thad and Ted.