"Not for ten of 'em; not for a million of 'em! I'm goin' to have"
"Wait!" clamoured Maurice. "You'd be foolish, because they'd be a toy deportment in my store where they'd be a hunderd marbles! So, how much would you think your five-for-a-cent marble counts for? And when I'm keepin' my store I'm goin' to get married."
"Yay!" shrieked Sam derisively. "Married! Listen!" Penrod and Herman joined in the howl of contempt.
"Certumly I'll get married," asserted Maurice stoutly. "I'll get married to Marjorie Jones. She likes me awful good, and I'm her beau."
"What makes you think so?" inquired Penrod in a cryptic voice.
"Because she's my beau, too," came the prompt answer. "I'm her beau because she's my beau; I guess that's plenty reason! I'll get married to her as soon as I get my store running nice."
Penrod looked upon him darkly, but, for the moment, held his peace.
"Married!" jeered Sam Williams. "Married to Marjorie Jones! You're the only boy I ever heard say he was going to get married. I wouldn't get married for—why, I wouldn't for—for"
