the little brick walk to the gate, and then approached the carriage.
The gentleman inside, with what seemed an unpremeditated movement,
raised his hat. Randolph bowed. Carroll smiled in the gentle,
admiring way which he had.

"Perhaps I have made a mistake," he said, "but I was directed here. I
was told that Anderson, who keeps the grocery, lives here."

"I am Anderson," replied Randolph, with dignity and a certain high
scorn, and purposely leaving off the Mr. from his name.

Arthur Carroll no longer smiled, but his voice had a certain
urbanity, although it rang imperiously. "Now, see here," he said. "I
want to know why you did not do as I left instructions at your shop?"

"To what do you refer?" inquired Anderson, quietly.

"I want to know why you did not send in your bill last Saturday
night, as I ordered." Carroll's voice was so loud that Mrs. Anderson,
in the house, heard him distinctly through the open windows.

"I did not know that you had so ordered," replied Anderson, still
quietly, with a slight emphasis on the ordered. He looked slightly
amused.

"Well, I did. I told your clerk to be sure to send in my bills
promptly every Saturday morning. I wish to settle weekly."

"The mistake was doubtless due to the fact that my clerk has been at
home ill for the last three days," said Anderson. "This is the first