She arose, smiled sweetly, and walked to the door. There, with a flash
of white teeth and a dip of the heavy plume, she disappeared.

Both of the cousins had forgotten Uncle Jake for the time. But now they
heard the shuffling of his shoes as he came across the rug toward them
from his seat in the corner.

"Young marster," he said, "take yo' watch."

And without hesitation he laid the ancient timepiece in the hand of its
rightful owner.




SUPPLY AND DEMAND


Finch keeps a hats-cleaned-by-electricity-while-you-wait establishment,
nine feet by twelve, in Third Avenue. Once a customer, you are always
his. I do not know his secret process, but every four days your hat
needs to be cleaned again.

Finch is a leathern, sallow, slow-footed man, between twenty and forty.
You would say he had been brought up a bushelman in Essex Street. When
business is slack he likes to talk, so I had my hat cleaned even oftener
than it deserved, hoping Finch might let me into some of the secrets of
the sweatshops.

One afternoon I dropped in and found Finch alone. He began to anoint my