But delightful as all this was to the eyes of East Cyrus, there was one shop that so far outshone the rest that all day long an admiring group of children stood before it, gazing in at the window, and fairly goggling with wonder and longing. This was the shop of Mr. Ivory Cheeseman. Across and across the window were strings of silver tinsel, wonderful enough in themselves, but still more wonderful for the freight they bore; canes of every description, from the massive walking-stick that might have supported Lonzo's giant frame, down to dapper and delicate affairs no bigger than one's little finger; and all made of candy, red and white and yellow. That was a sight in itself, I should hope; but that was not all. The broad shelf beneath was covered with tinsel-sprinkled green, and here were creatures many, cats and lions and elephants, dromedaries and horses and turtles, all in clear barley sugar, red and yellow and white. Chocolate mice there were, too, bigger than the cats as a rule; and flanking these zooelogical wonders, row upon row of shining glass jars, containing every stick that ever was twisted, every drop that ever was dropped. Inside, a long counter overflowed with the more recondite forms of goodies, caramels, and burnt almonds, chocolate creams and the like; behind this counter a pretty girl stood smiling, ready to dispense delight in any sugary form, at so much a pound. In the kitchen behind the shop the little stove was glowing like a friendly demon, and beside the long table stood Mr. Cheeseman and Calvin Parks, deep in talk. "Now you want," said the old man, "to get a _good price_ for these goods, friend Parks. I'm lettin' you have 'em at wholesale price, because you're a man I like, and because I wish to see you well fixed and provided with a partner for life. Now here's your chance, and I'm goin' to speak right out plain. You're a good fellow, but you are not a man of business!" "That's right!" murmured Calvin meekly. "That's straight, stem to stern." "I hear about you now and again, in the way of trade," Mr. Cheeseman went on. "Folks come in, and talk a spell; you know how 'tis. I've gone so fur as to ask folks about you, folks whose opinion was worth havin'. They all like you fust-rate; say you're a good feller, none better, but you'll never make good. Ask 'em why, and they tell about your givin' goods away right along; a half a dozen sticks here, a roll of lozengers there, quarter-pounds all along the ro'd so to say. Now, young man, that ain't trade!" Calvin's slow blood crept up among the roots of his hair. "I don't know as it's any of their darned business!" he said slowly. "It ain't, nor yet it ain't mine to tell you; nor yet it ain't the wind's; yet it keeps on blowin' just the same, and while you're cussin' it for liftin' your hat off, it's turnin' your windmill for you. See?" Calvin raised his head with a jerk.