But the
latter got Nan and Bess to an "isle of safety" in a hurry, and would then
have darted away into the crowd without waiting to be thanked, had not
Nan seized the handle of her basket.
"Wait!" she cried. "Don't run away."
"Hey!" said the flower-seller, "I ain't got time to stop and chin-chin. I
got these posies to sell."
"Sell us two," Nan commanded. "Wait!"
"Aw right. 'F you say so," said the small girl. "Fifteen a bunch," she
added quickly, shrewdly increasing by a nickel the regular price of the
stale boutonnieres.
Nan opened her purse to pay for both. Bess said, rather timidly: "I
should think you would be afraid of getting run over every time you cross
the street--you're so little."
"Aw--say!" responded the strange girl, quite offended. "What d'ye think
I am--a _kid_? I live here, I do! I ain't country, and don't know me
way 'round."
"Meaning that we _are_, I suppose?" laughed Nan.
"Well," drawled the girl, "it sticks out all over you. I can tell 'em a
block away. An' I bet you're lost and don't know where you're goin'. You
two didn't come here to be pitcher actors, did ye?"
"Why--no!" gasped Bess.
Nan was moved to ask. "What put that idea in your head, honey?"
"I guess 'most girls that run away from home nowadays are lookin' to make
a hit in the pitchers--ain't they?"
"You ridiculous child, you!" laughed Bess.
Pages:
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92