“_Are_ there?” repeated that gentleman, leaning on the show-case and lighting his cigar, innocent of intentional discourtesy. “Well, I should _smile_—and smile broadly too, Mrs. Mansfield. There’s a Minneapolis chap here that’s buyin’ right an’ left; just _slashin’_ things! He’s bought a lot o’ water-front property, too; an’ let me tell _you_, right now, that Jim Hill’s behind him; an’ Jim Hill’s the biggest railroad man in the U. S. to-day, an’ the Great Northern’s behind _him_!” “Well, I hope so.” Mrs. Mansfield drew a long breath of delight. Mr. Lester smiled, shrugged his shoulders, spread out his hands, and sauntered out with the air of a man who has the ear of railroad kings. “Are you goin’ to the canoe races to-night, Mariella?” began her mother, in a conciliatory tone. “I don’t know. Might as well, I guess.” The girl was wiping the shelf bottles now; her face was pale, but her back was to her mother. “Well, we will have an early supper, so you can get off. Mercy, child! Did you break one o’ them glass labels? How often ’v’ I told you not to press on ’em so hard? What one is it? The tincture cantharides! Well, tie a string around it, so we’ll know what it is. There ain’t no label on the aconite bottle, nor the Jamaica ginger either—an’ them settin’ side by side, too. I hate guessin’ at things in a drug-store—specially when one’s a poison. Have you scoured up them spatulas?” “Yes’m.” “Well, I’ll go in an’ do up the dishes, an’ leave you to ’tend store. Don’t forget to make Mr. Benson’s pills.” But Mr. Benson’s pills were not made right away. When her mother was gone, Mariella got down from the step-ladder and leaned one elbow on the show-case and rested her chin in her hand. Her throat swelled in and out fitfully, and the blue veins showed, large and full, on her temples. For a long time she stood thus, twisting the towel in her hand and looking at the fires on the hill without seeing them. Some of their dry burning seemed to get into her own eyes. Mr. Grover, passing, glanced in. “Mariella,” he said, putting one foot across the threshold, “are you goin’ to the canoe races?” The girl had darted erect instantly, and put on a look of coquettish indifference. “Yes, I am.” Her eyes flashed at him over her shoulder from the corners of their lids as she started back to the prescription-case. “I’m goin’ with Charlie Walton!”