the bag of onions and wrathfully from the bag of onions to Harry.
“You ain’t going to let me have them?” she demanded.
“I shall be glad to, if you’ll pay cash,” replied Chub. “But Mrs. Peel, I am sure—”
“She’ll rue the day she left you young ninnies in charge here,” interrupted Mrs. Benson, as she flung herself out of the store. “I was never so insulted in all my born days! You wait until Mr. Benson hears of this! You just wait!”
“Phew!” breathed Chub, as he set the bag of onions down. “She has a horrid disposition, hasn’t she?”
“Maybe,” said Harry, uneasily, “we ought to have let her have them. We wouldn’t want Mrs. Peel to lose a customer, would we?”
“The loss of that sort of a customer wouldn’t hurt much,” returned Chub. “Too bad we couldn’t make a sale, though. That cash drawer looks mighty empty. Hello! there goes an automobile. Did you see it?”
“Yes. Do you—do you suppose she’ll send her husband over?”
