“I got a slip here for a dollar.”
“You can get a dollar’s worth,” he said, and he giggled shrilly.
“Yes, sir. A dollar’s worth. One dollar’s worth.” He moved his hand at the stock. “Any of it.” He pulled his sleeve protectors up neatly. “Thought I’d get a piece of meat.”
“Got all kinds,” he said. “Hamburg, like to have some hamburg? Twenty cents a pound, hamburg.”
“Ain’t that awful high? Seems to me hamburg was fifteen las’ time I got some.”
“Well,” he giggled softly, “yes, it’s high, an’ same time it ain’t high. Time you go on in town for a couple poun’s of hamburg, it’ll cos’ you ’bout a gallon of gas. So you see it ain’t really high here, ’cause you got no gallon a gas.” Ma said sternly, “It didn’ cos’ you no gallon a gas to get it out here.”
He laughed delightedly. “You’re lookin’ at it bass-ackwards,” he said. “We ain’t a-buyin’ it, we’re a-sellin’ it. If we was buyin’ it, why, that’d be different.”
Ma put two fingers to her mouth and frowned with thought. “It looks all full a fat an’ gristle.”
“I ain’t guaranteein’ she won’t cook down,” the storekeeper said. “I ain’t guaranteein’ I’d eat her myself; but they’s lots of stuff I wouldn’ do.”
Ma looked up at him fiercely for a moment. She controlled her voice.