"Well, and s'posin' I didn't want 'em--what then? I've
patched up the old ones as good as new--and I do declare, Evelina
Bunner, if you ask me another question you'll go and spoil all my
pleasure."

"Very well, I won't," said the younger sister.

They continued to eat without farther words. Evelina yielded
to her sister's entreaty that she should finish the pie, and poured
out a second cup of tea, into which she put the last lump of sugar;
and between them, on the table, the clock kept up its sociable
tick.

"Where'd you get it, Ann Eliza?" asked Evelina, fascinated.

"Where'd you s'pose? Why, right round here, over acrost the
Square, in the queerest little store you ever laid eyes on. I saw
it in the window as I was passing, and I stepped right in and asked
how much it was, and the store-keeper he was real pleasant about
it. He was just the nicest man. I guess he's a German. I told
him I couldn't give much, and he said, well, he knew what hard
times was too. His name's Ramy--Herman Ramy: I saw it
written up over the store. And he told me he used to work at
Tiff'ny's, oh, for years, in the clock-department, and three years
ago he took sick with some kinder fever, and lost his place, and
when he got well they'd engaged somebody else and didn't want him,
and so he started this little store by himself. I guess he's real
smart, and he spoke quite like an educated man--but he looks sick."

Evelina was listening with absorbed attention. In the narrow