d pushed her off the stool.

"Must I throw you out?" he demanded. "Must I? Must I, eh?"

He pointed towards the door.

"All right, Mr. Price," said Patience submissively, gathering up her
bills and thrusting them into a drawer.

"Hurry," said Price. "You'll be late for your supper."

"No, I won't," returned Patience, putting on her jacket and hat. "This is
wash day at our house. Supper is always late on wash day."

"Wash day, eh? Then you ought to be home helping your mother."

"Elsie will help mother," replied Patience quietly.

"Are you sure about that?" demanded Mr. Price.

"Of course, I'm sure, Mr. Price," said Patience, hurt.

"Well," said Mr. Price, "I'm not so sure. But don't stand here arguing. I
haven't any time to argue with a snip of a girl like you. Get out. Go
home!"

Patience, still a little hurt by her employer's expressed doubt about her
sister, started for the front door. Looking out, she saw the overdressed
young man with the automobile still standing across the street. He saw
her, too, and waved his cigarette. Patience turned back into the store.

"Girl," demanded Mr. Price, his patience now seemingly exhausted, "where
in the devil are you going?"

"Out the back way, if you please, Mr. Price."

Mr. Price got up deliberately from the stool which he had occupied as
soon as Patience had vacated it and looked out of the front door.

"The young whelp," he said, apostrophizing the overdressed youth with the
cigarette. Then to Patience: "Dodging him, eh? Now don't blush, girl. I
don't blame him for looking at you. You're worth looking at. But you show
mighty good sense in keeping away from him."

"Why, Mr. Price, I--" Patience stammered.

"O, that's all right, dodge him, keep him guessing. One of those freshies
from the city, eh? Well, there's mighty little good in 'em. Give your ma
my best regards. Tell her she's got a fine daughter. Good night."

Patience left the store by the rear door and started briskly for her
home. She had gone but a block when she heard a wagon rumbling behind her
and a voice called out:

"'Lo, there, Patience, late, ain't you?"

It was Harvey Spencer, ambitious "all round" clerk, hostler, collector
for Millville's leading grocer. He drove a roan colt which went rather
skittishly. There was an older man in the wagon with him. Harvey drew up
the colt beside Patience with a vociferous "Whoa."

"Yes," replied Patience, "I'm a little late. Lots of business these d