"All right." "What have you done with the rest?" "Locked it up." "And the key?" "In my pocket. Do you wish it, sir?" "No," said Mr. Stephens, smiling. "Did you ever forget anything in your life, Theodore? I did not think you had time to turn a key before you came out." "I turned it nevertheless," answered Theodore, significantly. "You know I don't trust that young man, sir." "Not yet?" "No, sir." "Well, I hope and trust that time will prove you wrong and me right." "I hope so, certainly," answered Theodore, dryly. "But you don't believe it." And Mr. Stephens laughed a little as he added: "Now, Mallery, if you _should_ happen to be mistaken this time!" Theodore answered him only by a grave smile as he went out of the room. It was a busy spot outside--clerks and cash boys were flying hither and thither, and customers were many and impatient. Making his way through the crowd, bowing here and there to familiar faces, Theodore sought for the person who awaited him. "A queer looking personage," the clerk had said, and over by one of the windows stood a meek-faced old woman, attired in a faded dress and shawl, and a rather startling bonnet as regarded shape. She looked as if she might be waiting or watching for somebody--at least she was not looking around with the air of a purchaser, and she was being rudely jostled every moment by thoughtless people or hurried clerks. Theodore resolved to discover for himself if this were the one in waiting, and advanced to her side. "Can I do anything for you, madam?" he asked, with as respectful a tone as he would have used to Miss Hastings herself. The woman turned a pair of startled eyes upon him; then seeming to be reassured, asked suddenly: "Be you Mr. Mallery?" "That is my name. What can I do for you?" The old lady dropped him a very low, very odd little courtesy ere she answered: "And I'm the widow Jenkins, and I've come--well, could I possibly see you alone for a bit of a moment? My head is kind of confused like with all this noise and running about; them little boys act as if they was most crazy anyhow, hopping about all over. I didn't know they allowed no playing in these big stores; but then you see I'm from the country, and things is queer all around; but if I only could see you all alone I wouldn't take a mite hardly of your time." "You may come with me," answered Theodore, not stopping to explain the mystery of the cash boys, and show how very little like play their hopping about was after all. He led the way to a room opening off the private office, and giving the old lady one of the leathern arm-chairs, stood before her, and again inquired kindly: "Now what can I do for you?"