“Don’t you worry,” Chub responded. “I’m the neat little storekeeper, I am.” He continued his investigations, peering into boxes and barrels and having a thoroughly enjoyable time. “Harry, here’s some real old-style brown sugar like grandmother used to have; remember it? It’s great! Have some?”
Harry had some, nibbling it out of the little tin scoop.
“But we must pay for it, Chub,” she said anxiously.
“Oh, we’ll take this instead of the candy,” Chub replied. “And look here, here’s some dried apricots. My, but I’m glad I came!”
“Chub, you mustn’t take things!” cried Harry.
“What, just a few old apricots?”
“No, not unless you pay for them.”
“How much?” asked Chub with a grin. Harry examined the end of the box.
“Well, they’re fifteen cents a pound. How many did you take?”
“Six.”
“Then I should think you ought to pay about a cent.”
