Some forms of payment consume much time when the circumstances do not require haste: they also have a way of making the payer and payee oblivious to their surroundings, so Philip and Grace supposed themselves alone until they heard the front door close with a loud report, and saw a small boy who seemed to consist entirely of eyes. Grace quickly and intently studied the label of an empty powder keg on the counter, while Philip said:-- "Good morning, young man. What can we do for you?" "Wantapoundo'shinglenails," was the reply, in nasal monotone. Philip searched the hardware section of the store, at the same time searching his memory for the price, in his native town, of shingle nails. The packing of the nails, in soft brown paper, was a slow and painful proceeding to a man whose hands in years had encountered nothing harder or rougher than a pen-holder, but when it was completed, the boy, taking the package, departed rapidly. "He forgot to pay for them," said Grace. "Yes," Philip replied. "I hope his memory will be equally dormant in other respects." But it wasn't; for little Scrapsey Green stopped several times, on the way home, to tell acquaintances that "up to Somerton's store ther was a man a-kissin' a woman like all-possessed, an' he wasn't Caleb, neither." The aforesaid acquaintances made haste to spread the story abroad, as did Scrapsey's own family; so when Caleb returned, an hour later, the store was jammed with apparent customers, and Philip was behind one counter, and Grace behind the other, and the counters themselves were strewn and covered with goods of all sorts, at which the people pretended to look, while they gazed at the "man and woman" of whom they had been told. "You must be kind o' tuckered out," said Caleb, softly, behind Grace's counter, as he stood an instant with his back to the crowd, and pretended to adjust a shelf of calicoes. "Better take a rest in the back room. I'll relieve you." Grace responded quickly to the suggestion, while Caleb, leaning over the goods on the counter, said, again softly, to the women nearest him:-- "That's the new Mr. Somerton's wife--an' that's him, at t'other counter." "Mighty scrumptious gal!" commented a middle-aged woman. "Yes, an' she's just as nice as she looks. Clear gold an' clear grit, an' her husband's right good stuff, too." Within two or three minutes Caleb succeeded in signalling Philip to the back room; five minutes later the store was empty, and Caleb joined the couple, and said:-- "Sell much?" "Not a penny's worth," Grace replied, laughing heartily. "We've been comparing notes."