I never thought of it. I'm getting too old, I guess, and worrying
too much. When my son Philip comes home I'll have a special sale."
"No, don't wait!" cried Bunny Brown eagerly. "Let's have it now! Where
are those oatmeal things?"
Mrs. Golden smiled at his eager, bustling air.
"They're in the storeroom," she said. "Some of the cases aren't open
yet."
"We'll open 'em for you!" cried Bunny. "Then we'll stack the oatmeal in
the window, and we'll make a sign saying it's awful cheap and you'll
sell a lot, Mrs. Golden."
"Well, maybe I will, dearie. I'm sure I hope so. And it's good of you to
help me. Let me see now, I'll put 'em in the left window, I guess. That
has less in it," and she looked toward the window she meant. So did
Bunny and Sue, and Sue's first idea was made plain when she said:
"Could I wash that window, Mrs. Golden?"
"Wash the window? Why, yes, I suppose so," answered the storekeeper. "It
is pretty dirty," she added. "I don't very often look at 'em, and that's
a fact. I declare! you can hardly see what I have in my windows, can
you? Dear me, I am getting old.
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