Toward noon, one February day, Cyrus and Ruth entered the store. Uncle Hector was off at the further end talking with a customer:--Mrs. Bennett. Nobody else was there. While waiting for Mrs. Bennett to finish her business Cyrus and Ruth admired, as usual, the wonders about them, and inhaled the intoxicating air; an air heavy laden with odors of molasses and vinegar, of coffee, calico and oranges, of the spices of Araby and the rubber boots of New England. On the top of the counter, which was on a level with the nose of Cyrus, lay a dollar bill. Cyrus saw it, and by standing on his toes he could reach over and take it--which he did. He held it in the fingers of both hands and drank in its beauties. Then he held it closer to Ruth's face, that she, too, might admire it. "Just think!" he said. "A dollar is a hundred cents; we can buy a hundred sticks of that candy you like!" Ruth had doubts of his ownership. Yet she considered the discoverer's feelings. "But, Cyrus, it isn't yours." "Yes it is!" "Oh, no!" "Yes. Findin's is keepin's." Ruth had never heard this principle before, but she accepted it because it came from Cyrus. And Cyrus, this fortune in his fingers, felt as all men feel when raised, without warning, from poverty to wealth. Mrs. Bennett departed and at last Uncle Hector towered behind the counter smiling down upon the two upturned, excited faces. "Well, Miss Ruth Heywood, and Mr. Cyrus Alton, what can I do for you this morning?" Again Cyrus raised himself upon his toes, pushed the dollar bill as far over on the counter as he could reach, and exclaimed: "A whole dollar's worth of that red candy with the white stripes!" Uncle Hector's genial smile gave way, for a moment, to an expression of surprise. "Where did you get this money, Cyrus?" "Father gave it to me." "Oh, Cyrus!" exclaimed Ruth. The liar turned and looked at Ruth, not in anger at being exposed, but in a sort of calm amazement that so sensible a girl should ruin so good a plan. Ruth, however, was not the person to compromise with sin. "Cyrus Alton! How _can_ you say such a thing?" Kindly but sadly Uncle Hector looked down upon the boy. "Tell the truth, Cyrus." Cyrus, unabashed, met Uncle Hector's reproving gaze. He even smiled, as any honest man might smile, to show his spirit was above defeat. "I found it just now, right here on this counter." Uncle Hector's face was still serious. "Are you sure it's your dollar?" "Yes, sir. Findin's is keepin's." Uncle Hector stroked his chin and twisted his mouth, as if wondering how to answer. "Well--er--if you should take one of those oranges and refuse to pay for it, and just walk away with it and say 'findin's is keepin's'--would that be all right?" "No, sir, because I know they are for sale. This dollar wasn't."