“How do you know?” asked Chub.
“Oh, they always are.”
“Huh! Seems to me you know a good deal about novels, young lady!”
Harry looked a trifle embarrassed.
“Well, sometimes—at school—the girls would bring them to read at recess,” she explained, “and I borrowed one once—”
“Once?” demanded Chub sternly.
“Once or twice,” laughed Harry.
“I’m afraid you have a very bad taste for literature,” said Chub severely. “And I don’t believe I ought to let you go on. I’ll have another look for the prunes.” But his search was unsuccessful and presently he was back at the doorway. Harry was still deeply absorbed, and so for awhile Chub studied the landscape. But there wasn’t much to see until, after awhile, a woman in a brown calico dress turned the corner and came toward him.
“Look out, Harry!” he whispered. “Here’s a customer!”
The woman, who had a very unattractive aspect, glanced at Chub curiously and walked past him into the store.
