He glanced around. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention. Pat tried it, and a funny affair he made of it. Mr. Farnham, who was only apparently busy, had to exert all his will power to keep back a smile. For Pat, with the fear of observers before his eyes, unrolled the web with a softness that was almost sneaking; he held up the length with a trembling hand and a reddening cheek; and, putting his head on one side, regarded his imaginary customer with a shamefaced air that was most amusing. Pat seemed to feel that he had made himself ridiculous. He sighed. "There's too much style to it for me yet," he said. "I'll just have to sell 'em plain goods without any flourishes. But I'll do it yet, so I will, only I'll practice it at home." "And what did you be sellin' to-day, Pat dear?" asked his mother when at half-past nine he entered the kitchen door. She would not ask him at supper time. She wished to hear the sum total of the day's sales at once, and she had prepared her mind for a long list of articles. "Well, mother," answered Pat drawing a long breath, "I sold two yards and a half of gingham." The widow nodded. But Pat did not go on. "And what else, Pat dear?" "Nothin' else, mother." Mrs. O'Callaghan looked astonished. [Illustration: "Mrs. O'Callaghan looked astonished."] "That's little to be sellin' in a whole day," she observed. "Didn't you sell no silks and velvets and laces?" "I'm not to sell them, mother." "And why not?" with a mystified air. "Sure and I don't know. I've just the calicoes and the ginghams and the muslins." "Ah!" breathed the widow. And she sat silent in thought a while. The small lamp on the pine table burned brightly, and it lit up Pat's face so that with every glance his mother cast at him she read there the discouragement he felt. "Pat dear," she began presently, "there's beginnin's in all things. And the beginnin's is either at the bottom or at wan ind, depindin' which way you're to go. Roads has their beginnin's at wan ind and runs on, round corners, maybe, to the other ind. Permotions begin at the bottom. You moind I was tellin' you 'twas loikely there was permotions in stores?" Pat gazed at his mother eagerly. "Do you think so, mother?" "I think so. Else why should they put the last hand in to sweepin' out and sellin' naught but ginghams and calicoes and muslins? And will you be tellin' me what the b'y that swept out before you is sellin'?" continued the little woman, anxious to prove the truth of her opinion. "Sure and he ain't sellin' nothin'," responded the son. "He ain't there." "And why not?" interrogated Mrs. O'Callaghan. "I'm told he didn't do his work good." Mrs. O'Callaghan looked grave. "Well," she said, "there's a lesson for them that needs it. There's gettin' out of stores as well as gettin' in, so there is. And now, Pat, cheer up. 'Tis loikely sellin' things is a business that's got to be larned the same as any other."