a bargain through his slowness--a fact which sometimes so painfully
affected the individual who had outdistanced him that he would offer to
let him have it at a still lower figure.

"You get younger than ever, Mrs. Pullen," said Wiggett, the conversation
having turned upon ages.

"Young ain't the word for it," said Miller, with a praiseworthy
determination not to be left behind.

"No; it's age as you're thinking of, Mr. Wiggett," said the carpenter,
slowly; "none of us gets younger, do we, Ann?"

[Illustration: "YOU GET YOUNGER THAN EVER, MRS. PULLEN."]

"Some of us keeps young in our ways," said Mrs. Pullen, somewhat shortly.

"How old should you say Ann is now?" persisted the watchful Tidger.

Mr. Wiggett shook his head. "I should say she's about fifteen years
younger nor me," he said, slowly, "and I'm as lively as a cricket."

"She's fifty-five," said the carpenter.

"That makes you seventy, Wiggett," said Mr. Miller, pointedly. "I
thought you was more than that. You look it."

Mr. Wiggett coughed sourly. "I'm fifty-nine," he growled. "Nothing 'll
make me believe as Mrs. Pullen's fifty-five, nor anywhere near it."