One night, after the shop had been closed, and prayers said, and Mark had retired to his small attic, he fancied that he heard a little noise down below, and crept from his chamber to listen. All was very still, only the clock on the stairs seemed to tick twice as loudly as usual. Then again there was a slight sound, apparently from the shop, and Mark wondered what, at that hour, it could be. Softly he crept down the creaking stair, unwilling to disturb his master, who had retired to rest rather earlier than usual, happening to feel not very well. Mark reached the door which opened into the shop, and there was no doubt left that somebody was within engaged in some occupation. Mark observed that the door, though nearly closed, was not shut, a narrow line of light showed it to be a little ajar; he pushed it very gently to widen the opening, and within, to his surprise, saw Radley. “Who’s there?” exclaimed the shopman; “why, Mark, is it you? That’s lucky, you’ll come and help me, I daresay. I am so sleepy to-night—but this must be done.” “What are you doing?” said Mark, with a feeling of curiosity. “I’m mixing this with that, as you see,” replied Radley, pointing to two heaps of what looked like coffee on the counter. [Illustration: MARK’S INDIGNATION AT DECEIT.] “Why should you mix them?” “Oh, ask no questions, and I’ll tell you no stories!” said Radley, quite dropping his usual formal manner, with a laughing look in his eye which startled the boy. “Do you mean—is it possible—” exclaimed Mark, his face flushing with indignation as he spoke, “that you are mixing chicory with coffee in order to deceive our master’s customers?” “You are very green, or you would know that it is constantly done.” “It cannot be right,” said Mark, “to sell an article under a false name, and get a false price for it too! Surely Mr. Lowe does not know what you are doing!” “Oh, you most simple of simpletons!” laughed Radley; “do you suppose that I am doing it for my own diversion, to serve my pious master against his will?” “You do it by his orders then?” “Of course I do.” “I could never have believed that he could have been guilty of such a thing!” exclaimed Mark, more shocked and disgusted by the hypocrisy of Lowe, than by any of the open wickedness that he had ever witnessed. “And you, Radley, how can your conscience let you do what is so wrong?” “My conscience is my master’s, I only obey what he commands.” “Your conscience your master’s! Oh no!” exclaimed Mark; “you will have to answer for yourself before God.” “If I refused to do this I should have to leave the grocer’s service.” “Better leave his service than the service of God.” “I say, young man,” replied Radley, still good-humouredly, though with some appearance of scorn, “mind your own business, and leave me to mind mine. When you carry the goods to the customers, no one asks you whether the parcel holds tea or gooseberry leaves.”