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One day, when he was riding in an omnibus, he opened a port-monnaie lined with red. A man with very flaming visage, who was somewhat intoxicated, and therefore very much inclined to be talkative, said, "Ah, that is a very gay pocket-book for a Quaker to carry." "Yes, it is very red," replied Friend Hopper; "but is not so red as thy nose."
Fly smiled, and quickly seized a bouquet with a clove pink in it. "Not so fast, child! What you got that you can give me for it? I don't mind the money. That old pocket-book will do, though 'tain't wuth much." It was very surprising to Fly to hear her port-monnaie called old; for it was bought last week, and was still as red as the cheeks of the painted lady.
I told him it was my piano, taking the cover aside and showing him at once how my beautiful sewing machine worked. 'What tune do you play oftenest? he asked. 'Rock of Ages is its favorite one, and I never sew without singing it." "One day I opened my port-monnaie to get change for some little needful, when I found I had but ten cents. I used five of it.
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