And nothing displeases a customer more than to listen
to wrong rhymes; don't you think so?" and he appealed to the chums.
"Of course," assented Mollie, with a look at the others to ask their
opinion as to what Mr. Lagg had in view, and what his object could be in
calling.
The storekeeper appeared to be nervous, and ill at ease, and it was
evident that he had attired himself with care for the trip.
He was obviously uncomfortable in his "Sunday-go-to-meetin'" suit, and a
stiff shirt and a stiffer collar did not add to his ease. But he stood
it manfully. Sitting on the edge of the chair he looked from one to the
other, twirling his hat.
"How--how is trade?" asked Mollie, feeling that she ought to say
something, but scarcely knowing what. She seemed to recall that this was
a way to engage a business man in conversation.
"Not what it should be," replied Mr. Lagg, with a smile. He seemed to
feel that he was making progress now. At least he was in his own
element. "Not what it should be. I miss you girls. When you used to run
in now and then for something in my line I did better. You were good
customers, and I always shaded the prices all I could, besides reciting
all my newest poetry as soon as I made it up. It isn't everyone I do
that for," he added. "Why, to some customers I never speak more than a
line or two in a whole year. But you girls--well, you're different.
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