"But, upon my soul, I don't know what Rushton is comin' to. A month or
so ago, there was an outlandish, heathen character come here that beats
anything I've ever heard tell of. His name is Tom Barnaby and he's set
up a store on the edge of town, in the front parlour of Widow Simon's
house. She's went and rented it to him, and she says he pays his rent
regular.

"He wears leather leggings and a hat with a red feather stuck in it,
and he's gone into competition with Mrs. Allen, who's kept the
dry-goods here for the last twenty years.

"Of course," she went on, a little wistfully, "I've always patronised
Mrs. Allen, and I always shall. They do say Barnaby's goods is a great
deal cheaper, but I'd feel it my duty to buy of a woman, anyhow, even
though she has been married. She's been a widow for so long, it's most
the same as if she'd never been married at ail.

"Barnaby lives with a dog and does for himself, but he's hardly ever in
his store. People go there to buy things and find the door propped
open with a brick, and a sign says to come in and take what you want.
The price of everything is marked good and plain, and another sign says
to put the money in the drawer and make your own change. The
blacksmith was at him for doing business so shiftless, and Barnaby
laughed and said that if anybody wanted anything he had bad enough to
steal it, whoever it was, he was good and welcome to it. That just
shows how crazy he is. Most of the time he's roaming around the
country, with his yellow dog at his heels, making outlandish noises on
some kind of a flute. He can't play a tune, but he keeps trying.
Folks around here call him Piper Tom.