“Are you the gentleman who left it here?” “Yes’m.” “What say?” “_Yes, ma’am!_” “Well, don’t yell so. I’m a little deaf, but I don’t have to be yelled at, young man.” “No’m.” “Eh? What say?” “_It’s a nice day!_” bawled Chub, desperately. “Yes, yes, I’m a-going for it. Ain’t any sense being so impatient. Sit down and wait a minute. I don’t remember just where I put it.” Chub retired to the railing and wiped his brow, while the old lady carefully closed and locked the door. Across the street the others were struggling with their laughter. “Did you make her hear?” asked Dick, softly. Chub made a gesture of despair and felt of his throat gingerly. Presently the door opened again and the old lady held out the key. “When’s she coming back?” she asked. “I don’t know,” replied Chub. “I haven’t heard.” “Third? Not till then? You going to keep store for her?” “Just for to-day, I guess,” answered Chub, wearily. “Eh? I can’t hear you. You don’t talk plain. She ain’t sold out, has she?” “_No, ma’am, she hasn’t!_” shouted Chub. Then he plunged across the porch and made his escape. The old lady remained at her front door, watching and muttering, long after they had opened the store and disappeared inside. [Illustration: “I want the key of the store”] “Here’s a couple of letters,” said Dick, as Chub raised the window-curtains. They were lying on the floor just over the threshold, and he picked them up and examined them. “One for Miss Jennie Frost and one for Mrs. Amanda Peel. Strange I didn’t get anything.” He handed them to Harry, and she looked them over critically. “This one’s from Mrs. Peel to her niece,” she said. “And the other--Chub, where did you say Jennie lived?” “Byers, or something like that. Why?” “Because this other letter is postmarked Byers. It just means, I suppose, that Jennie can’t come.” “Probably.” “I wish we could open the other letter, the one from Mrs. Peel, and see when she’s coming back.” “Yes, but of course we can’t,” said Roy. “Besides, what does it matter?” “Well, it seems too bad to have the store shut up, doesn’t it? I’m sure Mrs. Peel needs money badly. I’ll put these letters in the cash drawer.” “Come and look at the pocket-knives, Roy,” called Dick. “I’m going to have one. There’s a _dandy_ here for seventy-five cents. Look.” “Oh, do buy one, Dick,” called Harry. “We ought all to buy something and help her out. I’ve got fifty cents, and I’m going to see what I want.” Eventually Harry proudly added the following items to her record of sales: One Pocket-knife .75 One ” .75 One pair Canvas Shoes .60 One yard Blue Ribbon .08 One package of Raisins .15 ½ pound Crackers .08 ¼ ” Cheese .10 Harry frowned and figured for a while and then announced exultantly that they had already sold two dollars and thirty-three cents’ worth of goods. “Isn’t that fine?” she asked.