He'll take it; she can name
her own price. He hands you a ten dollar bill for the bottle he has
and for another in the basket--that's it, give it to him. The rest
of the bottles are jams or something. You want him to take them, but
he pushes them back. He's saying he wants the improved grape juice
or nothing. He shows a big wad of bills to show he can pay for it.
You look glad now--the little home may be saved after all."
The scene was shot. Merton felt that he carried it acceptably. He
had shown the diffident pleading of the country boy that his
mother's product should be at least tasted, his frank rejoicing when
the old gentleman approved of it. He was not so well satisfied with
the work of the Montague girl as his innocent little sister. In her
sale of Mother's jellies to the city men, in her acceptance of their
attentions, she appeared to be just the least bit bold. It seemed
almost as if she wished to attract their notice. He hesitated to
admit it, for he profoundly esteemed the girl, but there were even
moments when, in technical language, she actually seemed to "vamp"
these creatures who thronged about her to profess for her jams and
jellies an interest he was sure they did not feel.
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