"Oh!" says Aunty. "I recall your skates—those funny old wooden-topped ones, weren't they?"
"I was lucky to have those," says he.
"Hm-m-m!" muses Aunty. "But you could skate very well. You taught me the Dutch roll. I remember now. Then there was the night we had the big bonfire on the ice."
Woodie lets on not to hear this last, but grabs a sales slip and gets busy jottin' down items.
I nudges Vee, and she smothers a snicker. We was enjoyin' this little peek into their past. Could you have guessed it? Aunty! She orders six loaves of sandwich bread and asks to see the canned caviar.
"You've never found anything better to do," she goes on, "than—than this?"
"No," says Woodie, on his way down from the top shelf.
Once more Aunty levels her lorgnette and gives him the cold, curious look over. "Hm-m-mff!" says she through her aristocratic nose. "I must say that as a boy you were presuming enough."
"I got over that," says he.
"So I should hope," says she. "You manage to make a living at this sort of thing, I suppose?"