Amy was surprised to find an aisle devoted to antique-looking instruments. They seemed to be from all sorts of cultures. Amy couldn't even name half of the types of instruments along the shelves.
Her eyes fell on a set of panpipes. The small wind instrument was made of small shafts of increasing length bound by thin brown rope. Amy wondered how old it was. She picked it up and found the rope to be incredibly sturdy.
She held it up to her mouth and tested a few notes. A loud screeching reverberated off the walls and Amy gasped in shock. She blushed, though there was nobody around to see who had made the noise. She tried blowing on the pipes again, softly, and this time a much clearer note came out. She scaled the octave and found it to be in perfect condition.
Amazed at the craftsmanship required to keep a pipe working over countless centuries, Amy made her way to the front counter. She bumped into Lina, who had emerged quickly from the intersecting aisle.
"Watch it, Lina. You almost broke these pipes," Amy scolded. She hardly wanted such a relic to be destroyed thanks to clumsiness.
"Sorry," Lina huffed. "But I was looking into this cabinet and a tin soldier talked to me."
"Talked to you?" Amy asked, skeptical.
"Well...it was probably battery powered or something," Lina said, flustered. She obviously didn't want to admit it even happened. "This place is weird and I want out. Did you hear that horrible screech?"
"That was me," Amy said, holding up the pipes. "It works fine, I guess I was just blowing out the dust or something."
"Well, still," Lina said, looking around. "Let's get out of here."
The girls walked up to the counter. The old man had awoken, probably thanks to Amy's playing, and was writing what looked like chicken scratch in his large book.
"I see," he frowned when Amy told him she wanted to buy the pipes. "Sixty dollars for such an antique, but are you sure they're worth the trouble? They're broken, you know."
"No they're not," Amy said. "I was just playing them."
The man's eyes widened, and he began to stroke his long beard. "Did you, now? I suppose that was the noise that woke me."
"Sorry about that," Amy muttered. "Sixty dollars? I don't have that much."
"No need," the old man growled. "If you already played them the damage is done. They're all yours, just leave if you please."
"But...they work and everything. Doesn't that make them worth even more?"
"Young lady, you miss the point entirely," the man said with a cold stare. "I suggest you take your pipes and go home. You will pay a price, mark my words, but I shall have no part of it." He pointed to a hand-painted wooden sign that read Please do not touch any of the items in the store. We are not responsible for what may occur if items are not handled properly. Ask a manager for assistance if you have any questions.
"Oh," Amy said, not quite understanding. I'm sorry. We'll leave now." She and Lina shuffled out the door as the old man stared at them, muttering to himself. "They'll never figure it out. Kids today..."
Outside, Lina laughed. "Crazy old geezer! He just let you walk out with a priceless antique! I bet we could get a hundred, at least!"
"I want to keep them," Amy declared. "They make a really nice sound, not to mention they're so old. I don't have much in the way of antiques, you know."
"Fine, fine..." Lina said, seeming rather jittery.
"What's wrong?" Amy said. "You're still acting weird even after we're out of the store."