rolled, on the scales. "Seven pounds—one dollar and sixty cents. Mebbe you'd rather have three ribs than two?"
Again Claire's pencil moved to the rhythm of figures.
"If it's twenty-one cents a pound, it ought to be only one dollar and forty-seven cents."
"This cut is twenty-three cents a pound."
"But the market quotations say twenty-one cents," murmured Mrs. Larry.
Jud's good-humored face clouded. Here was an experience practically unheard of in the Dahlgren market, and plainly beyond his jurisdiction.
"I guess you'd better talk to the boss."
Mr. Dahlgren stepped forward solicitously.
"Nothing wrong, I hope?"
Mrs. Larry felt her color rising. The few women in the market, like herself, were well-groomed, well-tailored. They turned and stared at her and Claire. Price-haggling in a shop of this class suddenly seemed cheap and common. And yet she was determined to put into practise the lessons in meat buying she had learned
