As the door swung open there was a distant tinkling of a bell. The store was empty when they entered, empty and dim and cool after the sunny road; but in response to the summons of the bell a little woman appeared at the back, entering apparently from the ell. She was one of the tiniest women they had ever seen, and as she hurried toward them she tied together the strings of a quaint little black bonnet. “How do you do,” said Harry. “We want to buy an iron kettle if you have one.” “An iron kettle,” mused the little woman, taking her chin in her hand and looking anxiously about her. “Did you want a very large one?” She seemed to be about fifty years of age, with a thin comely face and a pleasant voice. Her expression, however, was so troubled and excited that Chub wondered, and Harry hurriedly assured her that just a medium-sized one would do and that if she didn’t have it it didn’t really matter one bit. “I have some kettles somewhere,” answered the little woman in a flurry, “only I don’t just remember--” Then she darted behind one of the counters and disappeared from sight while a rattling sound told of frantic search. Harry turned bewilderedly to Chub, and the latter grinned and tapped his forehead eloquently. “I thought so!” The storekeeper was beaming triumphantly at them across the counter and holding out a very dusty and somewhat rusty iron kettle. It was just what they wanted, Harry declared. “How much is it, please?” The little woman turned it bottom up and squinted closely, at last holding it out for their inspection. “Can you see any figures there?” she asked. “I left my spectacles in the kitchen.” “Looks like $7.00,” replied Chub dubiously. “Oh, then it’s seventy cents,” was the reply. “Uriah always made a cent mark like an ought. Was there anything else, Miss?” “Well,” said Harry, hesitatingly, “we did want some lard and flour, but--” “How much lard?” “Have you a small pail of it?” “No’m, I haven’t; but I can give you any amount you want. Three or four pounds, Miss?” “About five, I guess. And have you flour?” “Yes, indeed.” And she had sugar, too, and the purchasers began to entertain a new respect for the dingy little store. “I suppose you don’t live around here,” asked the storekeeper as she bustled excitedly about. “No, we’re on a boat,” replied Chub. “I want to know!” was the response. “There was a man in here only last week who came in a boat. He bought a good deal, too, but there was some things he wanted I didn’t have. Would you mind just looking out and seeing if there’s a buggy outside?” Chub obeyed and reported no buggy in sight. The woman looked anxiously at an old clock and sighed. “I don’t quite know whether I’m on my head or my heels,” she said with a little apologetic laugh. “I’m just upset to-day.” They murmured inarticulate sympathy.