"It's the last cent you'll ever get of my money!" said Mrs. Smith,
as she handed over, the amount of the bill. "I never had those
articles; and I shall always say that I was wronged out of so much
money."

"I'm sure, madam, I don't want your custom, if I'm expected to let
you have my goods for nothing," retorted Mr. Adkin, the natural man
in him growing strong under an allegation that implied dishonesty.

So the two parted, neither feeling good-will toward the other, and
neither being in a very composed state of mind.

Each day in that week brought something to disturb the mind of Mr.
Adkin; and each day brought him into unpleasant business contact
with someone in the town of Mayberry. To avoid, these things was
almost impossible, particularly for a man of Mr. Adkin's
temperament.

Saturday night came, always a busy night for the storekeeper. It was
ten o'clock, and customers were still coming in, when a lad handed
Mr. Adkin a note, it was from the regularly stationed minister of
the church in Mayberry to which Mr. Adkin belonged. The note stated,
briefly, that the writer was so much indisposed, that he would not
be able to preach on the next day, and conveyed the request that
"Brother Adkin" would "fill the pulpit for him in the morning."

Brother Adkin almost groaned in spirit at this unwelcome and
not-to-be-denied invitation to perform ministerial duties on the
Sabbath. Of theological subjects, scarcely a thought had entered his
mind since Monday morning; and, certainly, the states through which