"The clerk at the opposite store," was the reply.

"He is a wicked young fellow for making all this trouble," said
the old lady; "he has been doing this for a joke."

"A joke!" exclaimed Dibble, in surprise, "have you no Russia,
then?"

"My name is Jerusha, and so is my daughter's," said Mrs. Wheeler,
"and that, I suppose, is what he meant by telling you of old and
young Rushia."

Mr. Dibble, without more words, left the house and made for the
store. "You young villain!" he cried, as he entered, "what did
you mean by sending me over there to buy Russia?"

"I didn't," answered the young villain, with a perfectly solemn
face, "I thought you were a widower or a bachelor who wanted to
marry Rushia."

"You lie," said the discomfited Dibble, laughing in spite of
himself; "but never mind, I'll pay you off some day." And
gathering up his furs he departed.

On another occasion this sense of humor and love of joking was
turned to very practical account. Among the customers at the
store were a half a dozen old Revolutionary pensioners, who were
permitted to buy on credit, leaving their pension papers as
security. One of these pensioners was a romancing old fellow