other goods amounting to a dollar or more."

Mrs. G. Manville Smith's plumes tossed and soared
agitatedly. "But my good woman, I don't want anything
else!"

"Then you'll have to carry the Scourine?"

"Certainly not! I'll send for it."

"The sale closes at five." It was then 4:57.

"I never heard of such a thing! You can't expect me to
carry them."

Now, Mrs. G. Manville Smith had been a dining-room girl at
the old Haley House before she married George Smith, and
long before he made his money in lumber.

"You won't find them so heavy," Molly Brandeis said
smoothly.

"I certainly would! Perhaps you would not. You're used to
that sort of thing. Rough work, and all that."

Aloysius, doubled up behind the lamps, knew what was coming,
from the gleam in his boss's eye.

"There may be something in that," Molly Brandeis returned
sweetly. "That's why I thought you might not mind taking