"Certainly I shall, if I hear of a sale of cheap crockery," I replied
pointedly; "ours badly needs replenishing."
The barbed arrow did not find its mark. It may require a surgical operation
to get a joke into a Scotsman, but only the medium of some high explosive
could properly convey a hint to Elizabeth.
"'Oo wants to go to sales to buy things like pots?" asked Elizabeth
scornfully.
"_People who are always getting their pots broken_," I replied in italics.
"Well, everyone to their tastes," she commented casually. I began to wonder
if even trinitrotoluol could be ineffective at times. "Wot I mean by sales
is buyin' clothes," she continued; "bargins, you know."
"Yes, I know," I answered; "I've seen them--in the advertisements. But I
never secure any."
"Why don't you, then?"
"Because of all the other people, Elizabeth. Those who get the bargains
seem to have a more dominant nature than mine. They have more grit,
determination--"
"Sharper elbows is wot you mean," put in Elizabeth. "It's chiefly a matter
of 'oo pushes 'ardest. My! I love a sale if only for the sake o' the
scrimmage. A friend o' mine 'oo's been separated from 'er 'usband becos
they was always fightin' told me she never misses goin' to a sale so that
she'll be in practice in case 'er and 'er old man make it up again."
"I'm not surprised that I never get any bargains," I commented, "although I
often long to. Look at the advertisement in this newspaper, for instance.
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