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 looked out through the glass partition, over the brightly colored packages that lined his shelves from floor to ceiling. All that prosperity had come about through a policy of honesty and distrust. It was something to be proud of.

“Now, let me see,” he proceeded, recurring pleasantly to what he recalled of Peter's original proposition: “Aunt Becky sent you here to tell me if I'd raise her pay, she'd stop stealin' and—and raise some honest children.” Mr. Killibrew threw back his head broke into loud, jelly-like laughter. “Why, don't you know, Peter, she's an old liar. If I gave her a hundred a week, she'd steal. And children! Why, the old humbug! She's too old; she's had her crop. And, besides all that, I don't mind what the old woman takes. It isn't much. She's a good old darky, faithful as a dog.” He arose from his swivel-chair briskly and floated Peter out before him. “Tell her, if she wants a raise,” he concluded heartily, “and can't pinch enough out of my kitchen and the two dollars I pay her—tell her to come to me, straight out, and I'll give her more, and she can pinch more.”

Mr. Killibrew moved down the aisle of his store between fragrant barrels and boxes, laughing mellowly at old Aunt Becky's ruse, as he saw it. As he turned Peter out, he invited him to come again when he needed anything in the grocery line.

And he was so pleasant, hearty, and sincere in his