Stump electronic books

"Where you find 'em?" she demanded.
"In the swamp!" Leslie nodded backward.
The squaw grunted disapprovingly. "Lowry no buy 'em! Sell slipper! Sell
moccasin! No sell weed!"
Leslie looked with shining eyes at her father.
"That lies with Lowry," he said. "I'll drive you there and bring you back,
and you'll have the ride and the money for your basket. That's all that
concerns you. We won't come here to make any more."
The squaw smiled again, so they started to the city. They drove straight
to the Winton residence for the slippers. While Mr. Winton and the squaw
went to take the baskets to Lowry's and leave Douglas at his office,
Leslie in his car went to Mrs. Minturn's.
"Don't think I'm crazy," laughed Leslie, as Mrs. Minturn came down to meet
her. "I want to use your exquisite taste and art instinct a few minutes.
Please do come with me. We've a question up. You know the wonderful stuff
the Indians bring down from the swamps to sell on the streets and to the
florists?"
"Indeed yes! I often buy of them in the spring.


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