“No. I jus’ work here.”
“Any reason you got to make fun? That help you any?” She regarded her shiny wrinkled hands. The little man was silent. “Who owns this here store?”
“Hooper Ranches, Incorporated, ma’am.”
“An’ they set the prices?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She looked up, smiling a little. “Ever’body comes in talks like me, is mad?” He hesitated for a moment. “Yes, ma’am.”
“An’ that’s why you make fun?”
“What cha mean?”
“Doin’ a dirty thing like this. Shames ya, don’t it? Got to act flip, huh?” Her voice was gentle. The clerk watched her, fascinated. He didn’t answer. “That’s how it is,” Ma said finally. “Forty cents for meat, fifteen for bread, quarter for potatoes. That’s eighty cents. Coffee?”
“Twenty cents the cheapest, ma’am.”