"How much money have you?"
Benjamin told him honestly just how much he had, and the merchant agreed to give him a whistle in exchange for it.
Never was a child more delighted than he, when the bargain was made. He tried every whistle, that he might select the one having the most music in it; and when his choice was settled, he turned his steps towards home. He thought no more of other sights and scenes, and cared not for sweetmeats and knick-knacks, now that he owned this wonderful thing. He reached home and hurried into the house, blowing his whistle lustily as he went, as if he expected to astonish the whole race of Franklins by the shrillness, if not by the sweetness, of his music.
"What have you there, Benjamin?" inquired his mother.
"A whistle," he answered, hardly stopping his blowing long enough to give a reverent reply.
"You got back quick, it seems to me," she continued. "Have you seen all that is to be seen?"
"All I want to see," he answered; which was very true. He was so completely carried away with his whistle that he had lost all his interest in everything else belonging to the holiday. His cup of delight was running over now that he could march about the house with musical sounds of his own making.
"How much did you give for your whistle?" asked one of his cousins, who was present.
"All the money I had," he replied.
"What!" exclaimed his brother, "did you give all your money for that little concern?"