"I thought you wanted to get to the nearest grocery," says I. "Hello! Here's one of the Wiggins chain. How about patronizin' this?" It's one of them cheap, cut-rate joints, you know, with the windows plastered all over with daily bargain hints,--"Three pounds of Wiggins's best creamery butter for 97 cents--to-day only," "Canned corn, 6 cents--our big Monday special," and so on. Aunty sniffs a bit, but fin'lly decides to take a chance and sails in in all her grandeur. The one visible clerk was busy waitin' on lady customers, one with a shawl over her head and the other luggin' a baby on her hip. So Aunty raps impatient on the counter. At that out from behind a stack of Wiggins's breakfast food boxes appears a middle-aged gent strugglin' into a blue jumper three sizes too small for him. He's kind of heavy built and slow movin' for an average grocery clerk, and he's wearin' gold-rimmed specs; but when Aunty proceeds to cross-examine him about his stock of tea he sure showed he was onto his job. He seems to know about every kind of tea ever grown, and produces samples of the best he has in the shop. Aunty was watchin' him casual as he weighs out a couple of pounds, when all of a sudden she unlimbers her long-handled glasses and takes a closer look. "My good man," says she, "haven't I seen you somewhere before?" "Oh, yes," says he, scoopin' a pinch off the scales so they'd register exactly to the quarter ounce. "In some other store, perhaps?" says she. "I think not," says he. "Then where?" asks Aunty. "Cooperstown," says he, reachin' for a paper bag and shootin' the tea in skillful. "Anything more, Madam?" "Cooperstown!" echoes Aunty. "Why, I haven't been there since I was a girl." "Yes, I know," says he. "You didn't even finish at high school. Cut sugar, did you say, Madam?" "A box," says Aunty, starin' puzzled. "Perhaps you attended the same school?" He nods. "Oh, I seem to remember now," says she. "Aren't you the one they called--er---- What was it you were called?" "Woodie," says he. "Will you have lemons too? Fresh Floridas." "Two dozen," says Aunty. "Well, well! You used to ask me to skate with you on the lake, didn't you?" "When my courage was running high," says he. "Sometimes you would; but more often you wouldn't. I lived at the wrong end of town, you know." "In the Hollow, wasn't it?" says she. "And there was something queer about--about your family, wasn't there?" He looks her straight in the eye at that, Woodie does. "Yes," says he. "Mother went out sewing. She was a widow." "Oh!" says Aunty. "I recall your skates--those funny old wooden-topped ones, weren't they?" "I was lucky to have those," says he. "Hm-m-m!" muses Aunty. "But you could skate very well. You taught me the Dutch roll. I remember now. Then there was the night we had the big bonfire on the ice." Woodie lets on not to hear this last, but grabs a sales slip and gets busy jottin' down items.