Peter liked getting something for nothing, so he liked the sweet shop near school.
The little old lady who ran it was genuinely small. She had to use steps to reach the jars of acid drops, humbugs, mint imperials, barley sugars, sherbet dabs, chocolate fudge, etc, on her shelves.
Peter had noticed that she always added half an ounce to whatever weight her customer ordered.
So if you ordered two ounces of, say, West Indian limes — his own favourite and that of his Granny, another little old lady — the sweet shop lady would weigh 2-½ ounces into the silver scale pan and thence into a paper bag. If you ordered four ounces, a quarter of a pound, she would weigh out 4-½ ounces. If you ordered half a pound —- well, you’ve got the drift. You’d still get an extra half ounce. Something for nothing.
As Peter was good at arithmetic, not to mention being up for a bargain and getting something for nothing, he realised that it was better to buy two two-ounce bags than one four-ounce bag. More bangs for his buck — or rather, because this was pre-decimal Britain, more sweets for his pennies.
When Peter explained all this to his first girlfriend, thinking she would admire him for his cleverness, she said he was sick. Hadn’t he got anything better to do than to diddle little old ladies out of a few West Indian limes? He protested that he wasn’t diddling anyone. It was just the little old lady’s system.
"There must be something wrong with you," Sheila said.
But Peter felt as if he’d got one back on the world, exacted some revenge for what the world hadn’t given him — rich parents, good looks, money.
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