Mr. Bliss pondered. "I--I think it _was_ a German town," he said, slowly. "I am almost positive it was a German town,--or province; the exact name escapes me. Hanover, perhaps? Nassau? Saxe-Coburg? I incline to think it was Saxe-Coburg, Miss Pardon. Have you the article?" It was Miss Penny's turn to look puzzled. "We don't keep that, sir," she said. "I don't know as I ever heard of it. All we keep is Germantown and Saxony, and--" "That is it!" cried the little minister. "Saxony! to be sure! Saxony, of course. And--yes, I have a sample--somewhere!" He felt in his pockets, and produced a parish circular, a calendar, a note-book, a fishing-line, and finally the envelope containing the sample. Miss Penny beamed at sight of it. "Yes, sir, we have it," she announced, joyfully. "Mis' Bliss got it here only last week. How much did she say, Mr. Bliss?" "Two pounds," said Mr. Bliss, promptly and decidedly. "Two--" Miss Penny looked aghast. "Why, we don't generally--I doubt if we have that much in the store, Mr. Bliss. Was she goin' to make a slumber robe?" "It was--I think--for an infant's jacket," Mr. Bliss hazarded, looking sidelong at the door. These things were hard to bear; harder than Marietta knew; yet how gladly should he do it for her, on that very account. He turned an appealing glance on Miss Penny. "An infant's jacket would not, you think, require two pounds?" he asked. "A jacket for your little Beauty Darlin', to be sure! She bought a pattern, too, I remember, a shell border, and then--don't you believe p'r'aps it was skeins she said, Mr. Bliss, instead of pounds? I presume most likely it was." Her voice was tender now, as if addressing a little child. "You are probably right, Miss Penelope," said the minister, dejectedly. "I seem to have singularly little faculty for these matters. Two skeins--ah, yes! I perceive it is so written here on the envelope. I beg your pardon, Miss Penelope!" "You've no need to, Mr. Bliss, not a mite!" cried Miss Penny. "We all make mistakes, and, if you never done anything worse than this, you'd be sure of the Kingdom. Not but what you are anyways, I expect. Gentlemen don't have any call to know about fancy work as a rule, especially a pastor, whose mind on higher things is set; you remember the hymn. There is those, though, that finds comfort in it, same as a woman doos. I knew a gentleman once who used to come and get his worsted of me just as regular! _He_ crocheted for his nerves; helped him to sleep, so he thought, and it _is_ real soothin', but he's dead and buried now. I often think, times when I hear of a man bein' nervous and crotchety about the house, there! I think, if he'd only set down and crochet a spell, or knit, one of the two, what a comfort it would be to him and his folks. We're made as we are, though; that's right. Was there anything more, Mr. Bliss? Twenty cents; thank _you_, sir. Real pleased you came in; call again, won't you? _Good_ morning!"