"I—I don't know what it cost."
Dad came over to the counter. "Well, why don't you look at the cost mark, Chester?" he said.
I shook my head, and he turned the portfolio over and put the point of his pencil on the ticket. "Can't you see that?" he asked. "What does that letter stand for?"
"One."
"And that?"
"Five."
"And that?"
"Naught."
"Well then, what is it?"
"A dollar and a half."
"Well then, what's the matter?"
"Nothing, only it's marked to sell at one-twenty-five."
Dad pulled it closer to him; then he said, "Oh!" and put his pencil on the little "2." "Can't you see that?" he asked.
"Yep."
"Well then, what more do you want? Can't you divide a dollar and a half by two? If you can't do it in your head, here's my pencil," and he looked sarcastic.
