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Apples, Ripe and Rosy, Sir by Mary Catherine Crowley
page 22 of 203 (10%)
downstairs to the store again.

For the next two or three hours it happened that Cash was kept running
to and fro almost without intermission; but she did not mind it now.
The kindly word spoken in her behalf by the truly gracious lady, the
simple gift of a flower, had given her new spirit. Her heart, like a
little bird, kept singing a cheery song to itself; while, as she
journeyed hither and thither, her feet seemed to keep time to its
gladness.

"Why, Cash, you're getting smart! What has waked you up?" said the
salesgirl, when, well on in the afternoon, the child sat down by the
counter for a few seconds. Then, without waiting for a reply, she
continued: "Now, aren't you sorry you did not exchange with me? See,
you've lost your rose!"

"Oh, 'taint losted," answered the girl.

"You did not give it to any one after I made the first bid?" (The
inquiry was in a sharper tone.)

"No: I'm keeping it for Ellie."

"Oh, sure enough! Poor Ellie! how is she? Cash, you're a good little
thing to remember her so kindly. Here, I have the orange still; take
it to her, too."

The child's eyes sparkled with pleasure as the salesgirl put the golden
ball into her hand. "Ellie'll be awful pleased. I'll tell her you
sent it, Julia," she said.
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