“Oh, I wish he _would_ make up with Miss Amanda,” sighed Carolyn May. “She’s _so_ nice.” “And I guess he thought so, too—once. But you can’t tell, as I say. Mr. Joe Stagg is a man that never lets on what’s in his mind.” Just then in burst Chet, quite unexpectedly, for it was not yet mid-afternoon. “Oh, dear me! Mercy me!” gasped Mrs. Gormley. “What _is_ the matter, Chetwood? Mr. Stagg hain’t let you go, has he?” “Let me go? Well, there, mother, I wish you warn’t always expectin’ trouble,” Chet said, though smiling widely. “Why should Mr. Stagg discharge me? Why, I’m gettin’ more and more valuable to him ev’ry day—sure I am!” “He—he ain’t said nothin’ yet about—about a partnership, has he, Chetwood?” his mother whispered hoarsely. “My goodness, maw—no! You know that’ll take time. But it’s almost sure to come. I seen him out the other day, across the street, looking up at the sign. And I’ll bet I know what was in his mind, maw.” “I hope so,” sighed the seamstress. “But you ain’t told us how you come to be away from the store at this hour.” “That’s ’cause of Car’lyn May,” responded Chet, smiling at the little girl. “He let me off to take her slidin’. The ice ain’t goin’ to be safe in the cove for long now. Spring’s in the air a’ready. Both brooks are runnin’ full.” “Oh, Chet! _Can_ we go sliding?” cried Carolyn May. “I brought my sled!” “Sure. Your uncle says he knowed you wanted to go down on the ice. I’ll put on my skates and draw you. We’ll have such fun!” Carolyn May was delighted. Although the sky was overcast and a storm threatening when they got down on the ice, neither the boy nor the little girl gave the weather a second thought. Nor had Mr. Stagg considered the weather when he had allowed Chet to leave the store that afternoon. He was glad to get Chet out of the way for an hour; for, if the truth be told, he sometimes found it difficult to make any use of young Gormley at all. “I might as well lock up the store when I go home to dinner and supper,” Mr. Stagg sometimes observed to himself. “If the critter sells anything, it’s usually at the wrong price. He wants to sell wire nails by the dozen and brass hinges by the pound. I dunno what I keep him for, unless it’s for the good of my soul. Chet Gormley does help a feller to cultivate patience!” Fortunately, for the peace of mind of Chet and his widowed mother, they did not suspect the hardware dealer of holding this opinion. Just now the boy was delighted to lend himself to Carolyn May’s pleasure. He strapped on his skates, and then settled the little girl firmly on her sled. She sat forward, and he lifted Prince up behind her, where the dog sat quite securely, with his forepaws over his mistress’ shoulders, his jaws agape, and his tongue hanging out like a moist, red necktie. “He’s laughin—just as broad as he can laugh, Car’lyn May,” chuckled Chet. “All ready, now?” “Oh, we’re all right, Chet,” the little girl cried gaily.