"All right, ma'am; a large leg of this year's lamb--grown to order. Any
peas, spinnage, cucumbers, sparrowgrass?"

"Southern, I suppose?" said Mrs. Munger.

"Well, not if you want to call 'em native," said Gates.

"Yes, I'll take two bunches of asparagus, and some peas."

"Any strawberries?--natives?" suggested Gates.

"Nonsense!"

"Same thing; natives of Norfolk."

"You had better be honest with _me_, Mr. Gates," said Mrs. Munger.
"Yes, I'll take a couple of boxes."

"All right! Want 'em nice, and the biggest ones at the bottom of the box?"

"Yes, I do."

"That's what I thought. Some customers wants the big ones on top; but I
tell 'em it's all foolishness; just vanity." Gates laughed a dry, hacking
little laugh at his drollery, and kept his eyes on Annie. She smiled at
last, with permissive recognition, and Gates came forward. "Used to know
your father pretty well; but I can't keep up with the young folks any
more." He was really not many years older than Annie; he rubbed his right
hand on the inside of his long shirt, and gave it her to shake. "Well, you