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 "Oh, they live next door with Mrs. Armstrong; we could not attend to them ourselves, you know, having so much to do."

"How old are they now, Mrs. Martin Barton."

"How old are the two twins?—let me see—how old are they, Jenny Hart?"

"Twelve years old this month, Mrs. Martin Barton, and as fine, healthy children as you would wish to see. Here, Alfred Gray, put up these goods, the porter has laid them before me, and they belong to Mr. Martin Barton's shelves. These buttons are for the drawer, we shall retail them. Mr. Martin Barton, to-morrow we begin to close the shop at sundown. Alfred Gray and Jasper Merry stipulated, you know, that at the end of two years they were only to tend shop between sunrise and sunset."

"Very well," said Martin Barton, "I am glad of it. Then we may as well all quit together, at the same hour, for the other young men have the like privilege."

"No," said Jenny Hart, "Ira Elkado made no such bargain, he is to work evenings, and as there are many bundles to pack up, he can help the porter to"—but Jenny Hart cast those black eyes of hers to the end of the long counter, and there stood Ira Elkado figuring away at accounts, his auction accounts, and making all square. Her heart smote her, but she reasoned herself out of her tender feelings, for the man had been presumptuous and disposed to meddle, particularly with a fifth clerk, a clever young man who had his station on the right hand of Martin Barton, and, of course, next to her. Ira Elkado had at first longed for this post of honour, but his having to turn buyer at auctions kept him from having a regular station behind the counter. His place was the old spot once occupied by Hosea Bringle, and here he had to sit perched up at a small desk.