“There now, that’s very businesslike, isn’t it?” she asked. “We’ll put down everything we sell.” “I think it won’t be much trouble,” Chub answered as he pulled open the little till drawer under the counter and dropped his penny in. “We may be the only ones to buy anything. I wonder if she has any prunes.” He went on with his investigation and Harry wandered back to the front of the store. When Chub joined her a few minutes later she was seated in one of the two old arm-chairs which stood by the open door deeply immersed in a book. “What you got?” asked Chub, looking over her shoulder. “My! ‘Little Goldie’s Vow!’ Where’d you get it? Is it good?” “Fine! I found it in the window. There are some more there. It’s awfully exciting.” “I dare say,” replied Chub, “but I don’t believe I ought to let you read such things, Harry. That’s just trash.” “You haven’t read it,” answered Harry rebelliously. “I don’t need to; the title’s enough. You know your mother wouldn’t want you to read such things.” “Well,” sighed Harry. “But please mayn’t I just finish this chapter, Chub? It’s all about a beautiful girl named Jessica and--” “Thought her name was Little Goldie,” sniffed Chub. “Oh, that’s just a nickname that the hero gave her on account of her wonderful golden tresses. And there’s another girl in it named Alice; she’s the villain--no, villainess--and a perfectly fascinating man with beautiful gray eyes and--” “What’s his name? Tom?” “Of course not!” exclaimed Harry contemptuously. “His name is Reginald Forrest. At least, that’s what he calls himself, but of course he’s an earl or a lord or something in disguise.” “How do you know?” asked Chub. “Oh, they always are.” “Huh! Seems to me you know a good deal about novels, young lady!” Harry looked a trifle embarrassed. “Well, sometimes--at school--the girls would bring them to read at recess,” she explained, “and I borrowed one once--” “Once?” demanded Chub sternly. “Once or twice,” laughed Harry. “I’m afraid you have a very bad taste for literature,” said Chub severely. “And I don’t believe I ought to let you go on. I’ll have another look for the prunes.” But his search was unsuccessful and presently he was back at the doorway. Harry was still deeply absorbed, and so for awhile Chub studied the landscape. But there wasn’t much to see until, after awhile, a woman in a brown calico dress turned the corner and came toward him. “Look out, Harry!” he whispered. “Here’s a customer!” The woman, who had a very unattractive aspect, glanced at Chub curiously and walked past him into the store. “Where’s Mrs. Peel?” she demanded of Harry. “She’s gone away to visit her sister, who is ill at--at somewhere down the river. She’s left us in charge of the store until her niece comes. Can I do anything for you?” “Humph!” said the woman. “She always was crazy. Well, I want two quarts of onions, but I guess I can get them myself, young lady.”