" Sam said
hesitatingly, "so I thought we could easy fix up the spare room--ain't
it?"

"Why, sure!" Mrs. Green replied as she shook Max's hand warmly. "Is the
folks all well, Mr. Kirschner?"

Max smiled sadly.

"You can judge for yourself, Mrs. Green," he said, "because I'm all the
folks there are."

"Oh, sure," Mrs. Green hastened to say. "I remember now; you never got
married."

"Why, how do you know that?" Sam asked.

Mrs. Green nodded her head sideways in Sam's direction.

"He don't never hear nothing, Mr. Kirschner," she said. "With me the
women folks _schmooses_ all the time; and you could take it from me, Mr.
Kirschner, they talk a whole lot more about what happens forty years ago
as what happens last week already."

Max nodded as the store door opened and a woman of uncertain age
entered.

"Good morning, Mis' Green," the newcomer said, her eyes glued on Max
Kirschner. "I was just passin' by on my way to the depot and I
remembered that I needed a spool of thread."

Mrs. Green passed behind the counter to reach the thread case.

"Going to Sarahcuse to-day, Mis' Duree?" she asked casually.

Mrs. Duryea blushed.

"I'm on my way to see my sister's little granddaughter," she explained;
"she's just recovering from whooping cough."

"Would that be your sister Libby?" Max inquired.

Mrs. Duryea started visibly.

"I don't know as I----" she began.

"That's so," Max continued. "Libby moved to Elmira. It must be Carrie.
She married Lem Peters, didn't she?"

"Well, of all things!" Mrs. Duryea exclaimed. "Who in the world told you
all that?"

"I just remembered it," Max said, holding out his hand. "How's Tom?"

Mrs. Duryea took the proffered hand gingerly.

"He's pretty spry," she said.

"Tell him Max Kirschner was asking for him," Max replied.

"You ain't Max Kirschner?" Mrs. Duryea cried.

"Just as sure as you're Hattie Watson," Max said. "How're all the
children, Hattie?"

"All growed up and flew away," Mrs. Duryea replied. "What are you doing
around here?"

Max's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"I'm selling goods for Mr. Green here," he declared. "Let's see, Hattie.
Forty-two bust, I should say."

He snatched a garment from a rack near by.

"Here's a coat, Hattie, that would stand you in forty dollars in
Syracuse," he said. "One of those big dry-goods stores there figures on
a coat like this: garment, wholesale, twenty dollars; running a big
store with elevators, electric lights and