"Bandanas? Yes, a prime lot of 'em," said bustling little Mr. Carney,
bringing out his whole stock.
His small customer, standing on tiptoe to reach the counter, gravely
examined them. Would Aunt Samantha like a red one or a yellow one best,
she wondered. It was a perplexing question to decide. If only she could
take her one of each! And that reminded her to ask the price.
"Seventy-five cents apiece," said the old gentleman briskly.
"Seventy--five--cents!" repeated Nan, faintly.
"Yes, sissy; cheap at that, too."
"I--thought--I didn't know," stammered Nannie, in a sore
disappointment. Then rallying her faltering courage, she asked: "Don't
you ever sell any for 'leven cents?"
"Eleven cents? Bless me, child! Why, they cost--Oh! may be you mean
cotton ones? Look a little like these."
Nan nodded, glad to think it even probable that she had meant anything.
"Well, I don't keep that kind, you see," explained Mr. Carney,
condescendingly.
Discouraged and forlorn, the little woman turned away. She walked until
she was quite out of sight of the store, and then paused to meditate.
What should she do? It seemed dreadfully hard to give up her plan now
when she had thought it all nicely settled.
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