Ike was seated astride one of the large baskets as if it were a saddle, and taking off his old hat he began to indulge in a good scratch at his head.
"Lookye here," he exclaimed suddenly, "why don't you go to market ?" "Too young," I said, with a feeling of eagerness flashing through me.
"Not you," he said slowly, as he looked down at me and seemed to measure me with his eye as one of my uncles did.

"There's a much littler boy than you goes with one of the carts, and I see him cutting about the market with a book under his arm, looking as chuff as a pea on a shovel.
He ain't nothing to you.

Come along o' me.

I'll take an old coat for wrapper, and you'll be as right as the mail.

You ask him.