During the early years of my childhood I had a friend named Mina who lived three doors down. Mina's mother bought cigarettes by the carton, kept the cigarettes in her daughter's dresser, and paid about 20 cents into a kitty whenever she needed a new pack. The system assured that she always had the money to buy the next carton
Mina's older sister Rhoda was already smoking by the time Mina and I were twelve. To avoid being reported to their mother, Rhoda supplied cigarettes to Mina and several friends and proceeded to teach us the fine art of inhaling. We were easily able to purchase additional cigarettes from the carton in Mina's drawer. Her mother obviously counted the money in the kitty but didn't keep track of the number of packs in the carton
I started smoking when I was twelve years old and finally quit when I was forty-seven.