Sally agreed gladly, and the fruit made a splendid showing along the upper shelves behind the counters. Not only that, but it began to sell at once. Mr. Ormond bought up all of the quince jelly after sampling one glass, and Ralph acknowledged that he and Honey were perfectly willing to become responsible for the strawberry preserves and spiced pears. By the time Frances Cunningham and the other girls from the Academy had arrived, Sally was already looking around for more supplies. Then Cynthy Allen had come over with Cousin Roxy one day. Ever since her home had burned the year before she had been under the friendly roof up at Elmhurst, helping out according to her strength, and never fully realizing how the shelter of the old house kept her from the poor-farm down on the Plains. She came into the store with an old black lace veil fluttering as usual from her hat, and a brown bombazine dress that dated from the eighties. "Well, you've got the place fixed up real sightly," she said. "I wonder--I don't suppose you'd have any sale for braided rag rugs, would you? I've got some awful pretty ones packed away in my chest, brand new, too. I've been sewing and winding all winter for Roxana, too, but I guess she plans to use them for carpets." Sally accepted the suggestion instantly, and down came half a dozen oval rugs, braided in Cynthy's best style, that were snapped up at once by the tent dwellers. Frances bought three to put around in the tent which she had reserved for Miss Emery. "Haven't you got some of that painted tinware, too, Sally?" she asked. "I don't know just what you call it, but I mean the black candlesticks and little trays with trailing vines on them. I'd like to put some of those around." The very next day Helen started off with Piney on the trail of old candlesticks. They stopped at nearly every house they came to, and returned with a perfect treasure trove of old relics. "Why, we found candlesticks stuck out in wood-sheds and corn-cribs, rusty as could be, but the real thing in colonial art, and mother," Helen added, almost lowering her voice with a touch of awe, "what on earth do you think Mrs. Parmalee had on her hen-house door? This!" She held up an ancient brass knocker, a smiling faun's head encircled in wreathing vines. "That doesn't look as if it ever belonged on a Puritan's front door," said Mrs. Robbins, laughingly. "I rather think it must have come from Merry Mount, where they held the first Maypole dance and shocked good Cotton Mather. I think I'll have to buy that from Sally myself." There were several old lacquered trays and a couple of old gray stone dasher churns. "We'll take those and fill them with yellow daisies," Piney said, admiringly, "and I'll bet a cookie they'll sell the first day to some of the artist crowd. I found them in the Bennetts' smoke-house covered with the dust of ages."