“You see,” the obliging grocer had explained, “there may be only corn or peas in them. Very well, they are even then worth twelve cents a can at the very least. But then again there may be blackberries in thick syrup, worth thirty or forty cents a can. Then what a bargain!”
“Well, girls,” Marian exclaimed when she had finished telling of her bargain and they of exclaiming over it, “what shall we have for dinner to-night? Loganberries in thick syrup or sliced pineapple?”
“Oh, pineapple by all means!” Florence exclaimed.
“Good enough for me,” smiled Lucile.
“All right. Here goes.” Marian stabbed one of the unknown quantities with the can-opener, then applied her nose to the opening.
“Corn!” she exclaimed in disgust.
“Oh, well,” consoled Florence, “we can eat corn once. Lucile doesn’t care for it, but she can have something else. Here’s a bowl; pour it out in that. Then open the loganberries. They’ll do.”
Again the can-opener fell. Again came the disgusted exclamation, “Corn!”
Lucile giggled and Florence danced a hornpipe of joy. “That’s one on you, Marian, old dear,” she shouted. “Oh, well, just give us plain peaches. They’ll do.”
“Here’s one that has a real gurgly sound when you shake it,” said Lucile, holding a can to her ear and shaking hard. “I think it’s strawberries.”