Our Aunt Esta hadn't reached the back door at all. She sat all huddled up in a little heap on the embankment trying to keep the New Minister from seeing that she was in her stocking-feet. But the New Minister didn't seem to see anything at all except her hands. Being a Suitor for her hands it was natural, I suppose, that he wasn't interested in anything except her hands. Her hands were on her hair. The scraggly gray wig had rumpled all the seriousness out of her hair. It looked quite jolly. The New Minister stared! And stared! And stared! Except for having no lovingness in them, her hands looked _very_ much like my Mother's. "Our Aunt Esta's got--nice hands," I said. The Rich Man burst another safety pin. "Yes, by Jove," he said. "And nice feet, too!" He seemed quite surprised. "How long's this minister fellow been coming here?" he said. "Oh, I don't know," I said. "He comes whenever our Aunt Esta comes." The Rich Man made a grunt. He looked at the Minister's hat. "Think of courting a woman," he said, "in a hat like that!" "Oh, our Aunt Esta doesn't care anything at all about hats," I said. "It's time she did!" said the Rich Man. "We'll go out if you say so," I suggested, "and help them have a pleasant time." The Rich Man was awful mad. He pointed at his plaid shawl! He pointed at his black face! "_What?_" he said. "Go out like _this_? And make a fool of myself before that Ninny-Hat?" "Why, he'd love it!" I said. The Rich Man choked. "That's quite enough reason!" he said. There was a noise in the wood-shed. We could see the noise through the window. It was my Father trying to untie his wings. He couldn't. The Rich Man seemed to feel better suddenly. He began to mop his face. "It's a great Game, all right," he said, "if you don't weaken!" He pulled my ears. "But why in the world, Ruthy----" he worried, "did she have to go and tuck that forty-three cents on to the end of the bill?" "Why, that's her profit!" I explained. "Her--profit?" gasped the Rich Man. "Her _Profit_?" "Why, she had to have something!" I explained. "She was planning to have more, of course! She was planning to go to Atlantic City! But everything costs so big! Even toys! It's----" "Her _Profit_?" gasped the Rich Man. "Forty-three cents on a two hundred dollar deal?" He began to laugh! And laugh! "And she calls herself a Business Woman?" he said. "Why, she ought to be in an Asylum!--All women, in fact, ought to be in Asylums--or else in homes of their own!" Quite furiously he began to pull my ears all over again. "_Business Woman_," he said. "And both her feet would go at once in the hollow of my hand! _Business Woman!_" Out in the roadway suddenly somebody sneezed. It made the Rich Man jump awfully. "Ruthy, stay where you are!" he ordered. "I can't!" I called back. "I'm already hopped out!"