The noise of talk grew so loud that it was only the keenness of habitual attention on Sally's part which enabled her to observe that a customer was knocking on the counter.

She darted out, but returned with a disappointed look on her face.
"Pickles ?" asked her husband, frowning.
Sally nodded.
"Now, look here, Waymark," cried O'Gree, rising in indignation from his seat.

"Look here, Mr.Casti.The one drop of bitterness in our cup is--pickles; the one thing that threatens to poison our happiness is--pickles.

We're always being asked for pickles; just as if the people knew about it, and came on purpose!" "Knew About what ?" asked Waymark, in astonishment.
"Why, that we mayn't sell 'em! A few doors off there's a scoundrel of a grocer.

Now, his landlord's the same as ours, and when we took this shop there was one condition attached.