“Guess that’s a pretty good plan too,” mused Mr. Shull. “Somehow you can’t seem to make ’em out at all. Now, I’ve been around a good deal, and yet somehow I don’t feel as if I knew much about women. I’m bound to say, though,” he added upon reflection, “they know considerable about me.” “I suppose the first thing we know now,” remarked the boy, impatiently changing the subject, “McClellan ’ll be in Richmond. They say it’s liable to happen now any day.” Newton Shull was but a lukewarm patriot. “They needn’t hurry on my account,” he said. “It would be kind o’ mean to have the whole thing fizzle out now, jest when the picture business has begun to amount to something. Why, we must have took in up’ards of $11 to-day--frames and all--and two years ago we’d ’a’ been lucky to get in $3. Let’s see: there’s two fifties and five thirty-fives, that’s $2.75, and the Dutch boy with the drum, that’s $3.40, counting the mat, and then there’s Miss Parmalee--four daguerreotypes, and two negatives, and small frames for each, and two large frames for crayons she’s going to do herself, and cord and nails--I suppose she’ll think them ought to be thrown in--” “What! didn’t you make her pay in advance?” asked the boy. “I thought everybody had to.” “You got to humor some folks,” explained Mr. Shull, with a note of regret in his voice. “These big bugs with plenty o’ money always have to be waited on. It ain’t right, but it has to be. Besides, you can always slide on an extra quarter or so when you send in the bill. That sort o’ evens the thing up. Now, in her case, for instance, where we’d charge ordinary folks a dollar for two daguerreotypes, we can send her in a bill for--” Neither Mr. Shull nor the boy had heard Mar-sena’s descending steps on the staircase, yet at this moment he entered the little work-room and walked across it to the bay window, where the printing was done. There was an unusual degree of abstraction in his face and mien--unusual even for him--and he drummed absent-mindedly on the panes as he stood looking out at the street or the sky, or ‘whatever it was his listless gaze beheld. “How much do you think it ’ud be safe to stick Miss Parmalee apiece for them daguerreotypes?” asked Newton Shull of his partner. Marsena turned and stared for a moment as if he doubted having heard aright. Then he made curt answer: “She is not to be charged anything at all. They were made for her as presents.” It was the other partner’s turn to stare. “Well, of course--if you say it’s all right,” he managed to get out, “but I suppose on the frames we can--” “The frames are presents, too,” said Marsena, with decision. IV