"Yes, but folks that don't have grist-mills, nor animals to kill, would put it the other way; they'd say that dollars an' cents are awfully dear. Why, Mis' Somerton, when some folks, that I could name, comes into the store with their truck to trade for things, an' I see 'em lookin' at this thing, an' that, an' t'other, that shows what they're wantin,' and needin,' an' can't get,--oh, it brings Crucifixion Day right before my eyes--that's just what it does. I've seen lots o' sad things in my day--like most men, I s'pose. I've seen hundreds o' men shot to pieces, an' thousands dyin' by inches, but you never can guess what it was that broke me up most an' longest." "Probably not; so, that being the case, do tell me." "Well, one day I'd just weighed out a pound o' tea, with a lot of other stuff that Mis' Taggess was goin' to call for, an' a widder woman that had been tradin' two or three pound o' butter for some things, picked up the paper o' tea, an' looked at it, an' held it kind o' close to her face, an' sniffed at it. She was as plain-featured a woman as you can find hereabouts, which is sayin' a good deal, but as she smelled o' that tea her face changed, an' changed, an' changed, till it reminded me of a picture I once saw in somebody's house--'Ecstacy' was the name of it; so I said:-- "'I reckon you're a judge o' good tea' (for Mis' Taggess won't have any but the best) 'an' that you kind o' like it, too?' "'Like it?' says she, wavin' the paper o' tea across her face an' then puttin' it down sharp-like, 'I like it about as much as I like the comin' o' Sunday,' which was comin' it pretty strong, for I didn't know any woman that was more religious, or that had better reason to want a day of rest. An' yet she was just the nervous, tired kind, to which a cup o' good tea is meat an' drink an' newspapers an' a hand-organ besides; so I says:-- "'Better buy a little o' this, then, while we've got it. I'm a pretty good judge o' tea myself, an' we never had any to beat this.' "'Buy it?' says she. 'What with?' "'Well,' says I, knowin' her to be honest, 'if you've traded out all your truck, I'll charge it, an' you can settle for it when you bring in some more, or mebbe some cash.' "'Buy tea!' says she, lookin' far-away-like. 'I hain't been well enough off to drink tea since my husband died, though there's been nights when I haven't been able to sleep for thinkin' of it.' "Think o' that! An' there was me, that's had two cups or more ev'ry night for years, an' thought I couldn't live without it! I come mighty nigh to chokin' to death, but I done up another pound as quick as I could, an' some white sugar too, an' I shoved 'em over to her, an' says I:-- "'Here's a sin-offerin' from a penitent soul, an' I don't know a better altar for it than your tea-kettle.'