l, while two men hoisted
the heavy stove on the wagon and drove away with it. Presently Sam
Kettleman appeared on the porch of his grocery across the street, and
Scattergood called to him: "Well, Sam, glad you decided to git the woman
a new stove. Shows you're up an' doin'. It's all set up by this time."

Sam stared a moment; then, smitten speechless, he rushed across the road
and stood, a picture of rage, glaring at Scattergood. "I didn't buy no
stove. You know dum well I didn't buy no stove. I can't afford no stove.
You jest git right up there and haul it back here, d'you hear me?"

"Well, now, Sam, don't it beat all--me makin' a mistake like that? Sure
I'll send after it, right off.... Now I won't have to order one special
for Locker." Locker was the rival grocer. "I kin haul this one right to
his house, and explain to him how he come to git it so soon. I'll say:
'Locker, we jest hauled this stove down from Sam Kettleman's. Had it all
set up there and then Sam he figgered it was too expensive a stove for
him and he couldn't afford it right now on account of business not bein'
brisk.'"

"Eh?" said Kettleman.

"'Twon't cause a mite of talk that anybody'll pay attention to.
Everybody knows what Locker's wife is. Tongue wagglin' at both ends. And
I'll take pains to conterdict whatever story she goes spreadin' about
you bein' too mean to git your wife things to do with in the kitchen,
and about how you're 'most bankrupt and ready to give up business.
Nobody'll b'lieve her, anyhow, Sam, but if they do I'll explain it to
'em."

"Now--"

"Locker's wife'll be glad to have it, too. She'd have to wait two
weeks for hers, and now she'll git it right off. Oven's cracked on hern,
and she allows she sp'iles every batch of bread she bakes--and her
pledged to furnish six loaves for the Methodist Ladies' Food Sale...."

"Scattergood Baines, if you dast touch my stove I'll have the law onto
you. You can't go enterin' my house and removin' things without my
permission, I kin tell you. Don't you try to forgit it, neither. If you
think you can gouge me out of my stove jest to make it more convenient
for Mis' Locker, you're thinkin' _wrong_...."

"'Tain't your stove till it's paid for, Sam."

"Then, by gum! it'll be mine darn quick. Thirty-eight dollars, was it?
Now you gimme a receipt.... Locker!..."

Scattergood waddled into the store, wrote a receipt, and put the money
in the safe. When Sam had recrossed the road again he tu