n.

The veteran was retained in office by the successors of President Grant
until his death, when the appointment was given to his widow, not a
member of the community asking for a change. The income was meagre, but
the widow had become accustomed to the duties, having performed them
during the last years of her husband's life, and she liked the work. The
store paid so well that it more than met the wants of the two.

When the cheering thousands welcomed the soldiers returning from the war,
a proud father held his little girl on his shoulder and she waved her
hand joyously to the bronzed heroes some of whom were still little more
than boys. One laughing soldier snatched away the child and kissed her.
He was Captain Friestone and the girl was Bessie Elton. The acquaintance
thus begun ripened until the time arrived for her to put on long dresses,
and by and by she became the happy bride of the officer, and never a
shadow darkened their hearthstone until Death called and took away the
brave husband and father.

Mike noticed that a massive safe stood behind the counter in a corner at
the rear of the store. The ponderous door was open, for mother and
daughter had frequent cause to use the repository. Within the steel
structure all the stamps, government funds and daily cash receipts were
deposited at the close of the day's business. The value of these was
slight, but the safe contained a great deal more. While Nora was lighting
the five kerosene lamps, suspended on brackets at favorable points in the
store, a middle aged and somewhat corpulent man bustled in, nodded to the
widow and handed her a large sealed envelope. Mike heard him say,
"Twenty-five hundred," and she replied "Very well." It was evident that
he had brought in that amount of money and left if for security with her.
On the back of the envelope--though of course the youth did not see
this--was written in a large, round hand, "C. Jasper, $2500."

The widow walked to the rear of the store, drew out one of the small
central drawers of the safe and placed the big envelope in it, still
leaving the heavy door open, though the little drawer was locked with a
tiny key.

Five minutes later, a second man, thin, nervous and alert, stepped
through the door, glanced sharply around and passed a similar envelope to
the woman. On the back of it was written, "G. H. Kupfer--$1250."

"You will please give me a receipt," he said in his brisk fashion. The
reply was gentle: