More than Ira Elkado had wondered; and had asked this question, but no one knew. Jenny Hart was an orphan, and came early into Mr. Daly’s family. We knew her age, however; she was just six and twenty when Ira Elkado sat wondering. At ten o’clock the postman brought two letters, one for Martin Barton, and one for Mrs. Martin Barton—the first letter, really the first letter either of them had ever received in their lives. Jenny Hart had never read a letter, but she knew how one ought to be opened; a thing which neither of the two owners of the shop did. “Jenny Hart, can you tell how to open this letter?” “Yes, surely I can; I have seen many a one opened—here, let me cut the seals—there—they are open. This is yours, Mr. Martin Barton;—twelve cents a dozen, Miss—and this is yours, Mrs. Martin Barton; but what is the matter?” The fact is, that Martin Barton was perplexed. The letter began thus: “Dear sir, I am sorry to inform you of the death of ——,” he had got so far when Jenny Hart, true as steel to her business, no sooner had said, “What is the matter?” than she turned to a customer who wanted black silk stockings. “Mr. Martin Barton, said she, please to show this gentleman the best black silk stockings—here is a pin, stick it in the place where you left off.” (Jenny Hart used to do so when reading a book.) Martin Barton stuck in the pin, laid down the letter, and sold the stockings, while the gentleman was eyeing the pretty shop-girl. Archy Campbell could have knocked him down; and Ira Elkado was well pleased to see his rival vexed. Jenny Hart was indifferent to all this; turning to Mrs. Martin Barton with, “some ladies’ gloves wanting—here, stick a pin in the letter where you leave off; the gloves are twenty-five cents, you know, Mrs. Martin Barton.” “Archy Campbell,” said she, one day, “why did you look so angrily at the gentleman who gave me the bunch of flowers yesterday? It was not like you; and it gave me great pain; you will drive customers away if you behave so rudely to them.” “You know well enough, Jenny Hart, why I looked angrily; and there sits Ira Elkado, who knows it too”— “Carpet binding by the gross?” “Yes, sir. Archy Campbell, show the best carpet binding,” said the indefatigable Jenny Hart; never waiting to hear why Archy Campbell looked so mad at the customer.