Merle nicely sensed the arrogance of the newly rich.
"I know," said the capitalist at length--"candy in a lemon." "One for each ?" "Of course!" It was no time for petty economies.
Solly Gumble parted with two lemons and two sticks of spirally striped candy of porous fabric.

Then the moneyed gourmet dared a new flight.
"Two more sticks," he commanded.

"You suck one stick down, then you put another in the same old lemon," he explained.
"I must say!" exclaimed Merle.

It was a high moment, but he never used strong language.
When the candy had been imbedded in the lemons they sauntered out to the street, Merle meekly in the rear, the master mind still coerced by brute wealth.

They paused before other shop windows, cheeks hollowed above the savory mechanism invented by Patricia Whipple.