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Updated: June 25, 2025
A man one of two who happened to be passing by caught the urchin's arm. "What's the trouble, old gentleman?" he asked. "I want old Hepzibah, or Phoebe, or any of them!" answered Ned, sobbing. "They won't open the door; and I can't get my elephant!" "Go to school, you little scamp!" said the man. "There's another cent-shop round the corner.
Or, and, surely, anything so undeniably just could not be beyond the limits of reasonable anticipation, the great claim to the heritage of Waldo County might finally be decided in favor of the Pyncheons; so that, instead of keeping a cent-shop, Hepzibah would build a palace, and look down from its highest tower on hill, dale, forest, field, and town, as her own share of the ancestral territory.
A round, bustling, fire-ruddy housewife of the neighborhood burst breathless into the shop, fiercely demanding yeast; and when the poor gentlewoman, with her cold shyness of manner, gave her hot customer to understand that she did not keep the article, this very capable housewife took upon herself to administer a regular rebuke. "A cent-shop, and no yeast!" quoth she; "That will never do!
Old Maid Pyncheon is setting up a cent-shop!" "Will she make it go, think you, Dixey?" said his friend. "I don't call it a very good stand. There's another shop just round the corner." "Make it go!" cried Dixey, with a most contemptuous expression, as if the very idea were impossible to be conceived. "Not a bit of it!
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