Mamma assumed an air of importance and
responsibility; I felt a pleasurable excitement; Chloe's and Flora's
eyes twinkled with expectation; while, from different quarters, the
house servants entered, standing with eyes and mouth silently open, as
the peddler, after depositing his basket and deliberately untying his
bundle, offered his goods to our inspection. He was a stout man, with a
dark complexion, pitted with the small-pox, and spoke in a foreign
accent. I confess that I yielded myself to the pleasure of purchasing
some gewgaws, which I afterward gave to Flora, while mamma looked at the
glass and plated ware.
"Ver sheap," said the peddler, following her eye, and taking up a pair
of glass pitchers; "only two dollar--sheap as dirt. If te lady hash any
old closhes, it is petter as money."
Mamma took the pitchers in her hand with an inquisitorial air, balanced
them, knocked them with her small knuckles--they rang as clear as a
bell--examined the glass--there was not a flaw in it. Chloe went through
the same process; they looked significantly at each other, nodded, set
the pitchers on the slab, and gave a little approbatory cough.
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