proffering cigars before the establishment of Selby Brothers,
Confectionery and Tobaccos.

Within the emporium the proprietor now purveyed hooks and eyes to an
impatient Mrs. Leffingwell. Merton Gill, behind the opposite
counter, waited upon a little girl sent for two and a quarter yards
of stuff to match the sample crumpled in her damp hand. Over the
suave amenities of this merchandising Amos Gashwiler glared
suspiciously across the store at his employee. Their relations were
still strained. Merton also glared at Amos, but discreetly, at
moments when the other's back was turned or when he was blandly
wishing to know of Mrs. Leffingwell if there would be something else
to-day. Other customers entered. Trade was on.

Both Merton and Amos wore airs of cheerful briskness that deceived
the public. No one could have thought that Amos was fearing his
undoubtedly crazed clerk might become uncontrollable at any moment,
or that the clerk was mentally parting from Amos forever in a scene
of tense dramatic value in which his few dignified but scathing
words would burn themselves unforgettably into the old man's brain.
Merton, to himself, had often told Amos these things. Some day he'd
say them right out, leaving his victim not only in the utmost
confusion but in black despair of ever finding another clerk one
half as efficient as Merton Gill.

The afternoon wore to closing time in a flurry of trade, during
which, as Merton continued to behave sanely, the apprehension of his
employer in a measure subsided. The last customer had departed from
the emporium. The dummies were brought inside. The dust curtains
were hung along the shelves of dry goods. There remained for Merton