Maria was a shirt-waisted young woman with a bang and a penetrating voice. She had charge of the hosiery counter in a department store and could call “Cash” in tones that brought instant service. This, with her promptness, had endeared her to many impatient customers--especially those from out of town who wanted to catch trains. It was through one of these “hayseeds” that she secured board at so reasonable a price in Taylorsville during her vacation. “What do you know about it?” inquired Abbie. Such things were Greek to her. “Know? I've got twenty shares, and I'm going to have money to burn before long.” Abbie bent her head, and took in as much of Miss Furgusson as she could see through the square hole in her window. “Who gave it to you?” The idea of a girl like Maria ever having money enough to buy anything of that kind never occurred to her. “Nobody; I bought it; paid two dollars a share for it and now it's up to three, and Mr. Slathers, our floor-walker, says it's going to twenty-five. I've got a profit of twenty dollars on mine now.” Abbie made a mental calculation; twenty dollars was a considerable part of her month's salary. “And everybody in our store has got some. Mr. Slathers has made eight hundred dollars, and I know for sure that Miss Henders is going to leave the cloak department and set up a typewriting place, because she told me so; she's got a brother in the feed business who staked her.” “Staked her? What's that?” “Loaned her the money,” answered Maria, a certain pity in her voice for one so green and countrified. “How do you get it?” Abbie's eyes were shining like the disks of a brass letter scale and almost as large--they were still upon Maria. “The money?” “No, the stock.” “Why, send Mr. Keep the money and he buys the stock and sends you back the certificate. Want to see mine? I've got it pinned in--Here it is.” Abbie opened the door of the glass partition and beckoned to the shopgirl. She rarely allowed visitors inside, but this one seemed to hold the key to a new world. The girl slipped her fingers inside her shirtwaist and drew out a square piece of paper bearing the inscription of the poster in big letters. At the bottom of the paper a section of cement drain-pipe poured forth a steady stream of water, and the whole was underlined by a motto meaning “Peace and Plenty”--of water, no doubt.