I nudges Vee, and she smothers a snicker. We was enjoyin' this little peek into their past. Could you have guessed it? Aunty! She orders six loaves of sandwich bread and asks to see the canned caviar. "You've never found anything better to do," she goes on, "than--than this?" "No," says Woodie, on his way down from the top shelf. Once more Aunty levels her lorgnette and gives him the cold, curious look over. "Hm-m-mff!" says she through her aristocratic nose. "I must say that as a boy you were presuming enough." "I got over that," says he. "So I should hope," says she. "You manage to make a living at this sort of thing, I suppose?" "In a way," says he. "You've no family, I trust?" says Aunty. "There are six of us all told," admits Woodie humble. "Good heavens!" she gasps. "But I presume some of them are able to help you?" "A little," says Woodie. "Think of it!" says Aunty. "Six! And on such wages! Are any of them girls?" "Two," says he. "I must send you some of my niece's discarded gowns," says Aunty impulsive. "You are not a drinking man, are you?" "Not to excess, Madam," says Woodie. "How you can afford to drink at all is beyond me," says she. "Or even eat! Yet you are rather stout. I've no doubt, though, that plain food is best. But you show your age." "I know," says he, smoothin' one hand over his bald spot. "Anything else to-day?" There's just a hint of an amused flicker behind the glasses that makes Aunty glare at him suspicious for a second. "No," says she. "Put all those things in two stout bags and tie them carefully." "Yes, Madam," says Woodie. He was doin' it too, when the other clerk steps up, salutes him polite, and says: "You're wanted at the telephone, Sir." "Tell them to hold the wire," says Woodie. We was still tryin' to dope that out when a big limousine rolls up in front of the store, out hops a footman in livery, walks in to Woodie with his cap in his hand, and holds out a bunch of telegrams. "From the office, Sir," says he. "Wait," says Woodie, wavin' him one side. Now was them any proper motions for a grocery clerk to be goin' through? I leave it to you. Vee is watchin' with her nose wrinkled up, like she always does when anything stumps her; and me, I was just starin' open-faced and foolish. I couldn't get the connection at all. But Aunty ain't one to stand gaspin' over a mystery while her tongue's still workin'. "Whose car is that?" she demands. Woodie slips the string from between his front teeth, puts a double knot scientific on the end of the package, and peers over his glasses out through the door. "That?" says he. "Oh, that's mine." "Yours!" comes back Aunty. "And--and this store too?" "Oh, yes," says he. "Then--then your name is Wiggins?" she goes on. "Yes," says he. "Don't you remember,--Woodie Wiggins?" "I'd forgotten," says Aunty. "And all the other stores like this--how many of them have you?" "Something less than a hundred," says he. "Ninety-six or seven, I think."