He loved to bring her surprises—wormy chestnuts, or stones that really did look as if they had gold in them. He indicated the glove case with a small dirty hand, and hoarsely asked how much it was.
"A dollar and a half, darling," Miss Pearl Miller answered, dripping honey, breaking off from her talk with Mr. Royal Clawson of the Men's Bible Class to bend with sweet womanliness to the round uplifted face, and two other ladies behind the counter smiled at Mr. Clawson with their heads on one side, and groaned tenderly.
That was bad news. Jodie's pockets held a good deal, but not that much. A canceled postage stamp, a licorice nigger baby meltingly attached to a grimy handkerchief, some walnut shells, two five-cent pieces, and three pennies. He wandered about for a few minutes, and then went back to inquire again, and, not completely discouraged, again. Mr. Clawson had moved on to the Fish Pond, and the Fancy-table ladies, whose feet were beginning to ache, somewhat lost their womanly tenderness.
"Goodness, Leora, here's that little boy back again, and I've told him forty million times how much the glove case is. Oh, dear! Now, little boy, you must not touch the things. And you must take your dog out of here!"
Well, if it was to be, it was to be. Farewell, lilac glove case, beautiful and unattainable. Jodie and
