aches so that I am almost blind. A strong cup of coffee I am sure
will do me good. And as I have a hard day's work before me, I must
prepare for it. And then I must have a pint of milk and a three-cent
loaf of bread for the children. That must do me for the present. We
have some molasses left."

"You'll want a little dried meat, or a herring, or something to give
you a relish, Mrs. Gaston. Dry bread is poor eating. And you know
you can't touch molasses." Half in sympathy did Mrs. Grubb utter
this, and half as a dealer, desirous of selling her goods.

"Nothing more just now, I believe," the poor woman replied. "I must
be prudent, you know, and count over every cent."

"But you'll make yourself sick, if you don't eat something more than
you do. So come now; treat yourself to a herring, or to a penny's
worth of this sweet butter. You'll feel all the better for it, and
do more than enough work to pay the cost twice over."

Mrs. Gaston's appetite was tempted. The hard fresh butter looked
inviting to her eyes, and she stooped over and smelled it half
involuntarily.

"I believe you are right, Mrs. Grubb," she said. "You may give me a
couple of cents' worth of this nice butter."

An ounce of butter was carefully weighed out, and given to the
customer.

"Isn't there something else, now, that you want?" said the smiling