"Go away, go away," said the General, and trotted down to the carriage door, which a footman held open for him.
But a whiff of fragrance had reached him, and he stopped.
"How much?" he asked.
"Three cents," said Jimmy, in a hoarse voice.
The General looked at the little fellow through his eye-glasses.
"Got a cold?" he inquired gruffly.
"Yes, sir," croaked Jimmy.
"Why don't you stay in the house, then?" growled the General.
"Can't, sir," said Jimmy, cheerfully; "business is business."
The General looked at the little stand where "business" was transacted—at the little rows of dried stuffs, at the small basket of flowers, and at the soup-bunches.