Mahala giggled: “It isn’t supposed to be Jason who’s saying that. It’s supposed to be Peter Potter’s business. Isn’t it conceivable that Peter might be trying to express his love for his fellow men by giving them clean, wholesome food and the conveniences of life at a reasonable price?” “Oh, yes, it’s conceivable,” granted Elizabeth, “but it’s unthinkable.” Mahala laughed outright. “Mother,” she said, “you are becoming absolutely profound.” “Well, what I am trying to point out,” said Elizabeth, “is the fact that Peter Potter in his dirty grocery, with his run-down stock, and in his baggy breeches and his collarless gingham shirt, didn’t put his business where it is right now. Look at that delivery wagon—red as a beet, with gold and black lines on it and a canvas top, and a horse like a circus parade! And look at Peter Potter in a wash coat and a new building, and the most attractive show windows this town has ever seen!” “I’ve been looking at him,” said Mahala. “He’s been on the upgrade for four years, and I think that it’s the result of Jason and the cleanliness his washerwoman mother instilled in him, and his willingness to work, combined with Peter’s horse sense in giving him freedom to try new things. I think that if the same kind of cyclone should blow through Papa’s store, it would be a good thing. I wish to goodness Jason was in Father’s store and would freshen things up for us as he has for Potter’s Grocery.” “Oh, my soul!” cried Elizabeth Spellman, aghast, “you don’t truly mean that you wish that?” “But that is precisely what I do mean that I wish,” insisted Mahala. “I wish anything that would keep Papa from looking so worried and being so peevish as he is lately. And as for having Jason in his business, I can’t see how Papa could be hurt, while Peter’s new grocery proves what help did for him. Have you seen Jason lately?” “No,” said Mrs. Spellman, “I haven’t seen him, and I shouldn’t look at him if I did.” “It might be your loss at that,” said Mahala deliberately. “In four years he’s grown very tall and not having to be on the run constantly to deliver heavy baskets and be on time to school, he’s gotten more meat on his bones and his face has filled out, and a sort of gloss has come on his hair. Because Peter has had the manhood to befriend him, he speaks and moves with a confidence he didn’t have when every one was treating him a good deal like a strange dog that might develop hydrophobia.” “My soul and body!” said Elizabeth in tense exasperation. “Mahala, you do think of the most shocking things! Why in the world should you mention strange dogs and that loathsome disease in my presence?” Mahala looked at her mother reflectively. “Why, indeed?” she said earnestly. “Forgive me, Mother!” And then she turned and went from the room. Elizabeth Spellman was pleased. She thought her daughter had apologized for her lack of delicacy. CHAPTER VIII