“Out for a walk,” said Enos, a bit pompously. “Any message? I’m Mr. Matchett.” “Well,” the man pursed his lips and hesitated. “I—I wanted to speak with your wife about an account. Something of her own, you know—er—wearing apparel. If I could get the money today it would be a great convenience.” Enos laughed indulgently. “Clothes, eh? You needn’t be modest about that. I don’t rec’lect her havin’ any new ones for years, but it’s all right, I guess. I’m payin’ the bills. Trot it out an’ I’ll settle right now an’ glad to.” The man looked relieved. “If it’s perfectly convenient?” he said. “Perfectly,” puffed Enos. “I’ve got the stuff ready for any little thing that may come up.” He unfolded the paper and glanced at the total under a short list of items. It was just thirty-five dollars. Matchett gazed at the figures, too appalled to change countenance beyond a drop of the jaw. Slowly, he pulled out his precious roll, and counted the money into the other’s hands. “Receipt that bill!” he grunted. “I’m ever so much obliged,” said the man glibly, his eyes on the paper as he signed the long name of a well known dry goods house, “and I wish you would explain to Mrs. Matchett.” “I will,” returned Enos shortly. “You see, we’ve sold out recently,” pursued his caller. “We are collecting all old accounts. This, as you perceive, is very old. We have never bothered Mrs. Matchett. I hated to come, really I did, but the present conditions made it imperative. Before your wife purchased the goods, she went to Mr. Morley—head of the old firm, you know, and told him so honestly that she couldn’t tell when she would be able to pay, and her reasons for buying, that it quite tickled the old gentleman. He came to me—I have charge of the dress goods department—Parker is my name. “Says he, ‘Parker, wait on this lady and I’ll speak to the bookkeeper as to the bill.’ He gave orders to keep it back, so it’s never been presented. Very unusual and unbusinesslike, of course, but Mr. Morley had peculiarities. Pity he died. Our new head is a very different sort. Very strict. So I felt it was my place to see Mrs. Matchett, as I sold her the goods and she would remember. Ladies are apt to forget their little bills if not reminded. I think your wife will remember.” “I think so,” said Enos. “Well, the thing’s paid and that’s all.” His voice was steady, but deeper than usual. “That’s all. Yes, sir. Sorry to trouble you, and very many thanks. I’m much relieved to find it was no inconvenience. So many people complain of hard times. Good day.” Mr. Parker skipped down the steps. Mr. Matchett locked the door. He went to the most remote room in the house and sat for two hours in a state of apathetic despair, broken only by short bursts of wrath. Oh, Martha should long recollect this day! Several times the bell rang insistently, but Enos paid no heed. At last he settled on a plan of action and went wearily down to unlock the door.