We sell them for a dollar apiece." "Humph! You needn't be so close about it.

I'll bet I can find out." "I have no doubt you can; only, you see, I don't want to tell what I am not sure they would be willing I should tell." Tom took a slate pencil from his pocket, and commenced ciphering on the smooth rock upon which he sat.
"You say you sold fifty books ?" "Yes." "Well; if you made fifteen dollars out of fifty, that is thirty cents apiece." Bobby was a little mortified when he perceived that he had unwittingly exposed the momentous secret.

He had not given Tom credit for so much sagacity as he had displayed in his inquiries; and as he had fairly reached his conclusion, he was willing he should have the benefit of it.
"You sold them at a dollar apiece.

Thirty from a hundred leaves seventy.

They cost you seventy cents each--didn't they ?" "Sixty-seven," replied Bobby, yielding the point.
"Enough said, Bob; I am going into that business, anyhow." "I am willing." "Of course you are; suppose we go together," suggested Tom, who had not used all this conciliation without having a purpose in view.
"We could do nothing together." "I should like to get out with you just once, only to see how it is done." "You can find out for yourself, as I did." "Don't be mean, Bob." "Mean?
I am not mean." "I don't say you are.