htly in fear of his little friend.

"Certainly not," returned Billy. "Why should I be angry? It's no affair
of mine."

"No affair of yours, Billy Little?" asked Dic, with a touch of distress
in his voice, though he knew that it was an affair very dear to Billy's
heart. "Do you really mean it?"

"No, of course I don't mean it," returned Billy; "but I wish you
wouldn't bother me. Don't you see I'm at work?"

Billy's conduct puzzled Dic, as well it might, and the young man turned
his face toward the door, determined to wait till an explanation should
come unsought.

Billy's bachelor apartment--or apartments, as he called his single
room--was back of the store. There were his bed,--a huge, mahogany
four-poster,--his library, his bath-tub, a half-dozen good pictures in
oil and copper-plate, a pair of old fencing foils,--relics of his
university days,--a piano, and a score of pipes. Under the bed was a
flat leather trunk, and on the floor a rich, though worn, velvet carpet.
Three or four miniatures on ivory rested on the rude mantel-shelf, and
in the middle of the room stood a mahogany table covered with
_Blackwood's Magazines_, pamphlets, letters, and books. In the midst of
this confusion on the table stood a pair of magnificent gold
candlesticks, each holding a half-burned candle, and over all was a
mantle of dust that would have driven a woman mad. Certainly the
contents of Billy's "apartments" was an incongruous collection to find
in a log-cabin of the wilderness.

At the end of half an hour Billy called to Dic, saying:--

"I wish you would watch the store for me. I'm going to my apartments for
a bit. If Mrs. Hawkins comes in, give her this bottle of calomel and
this bundle of goods. The calomel is a fippenny bit; the goods is four
shillin', but I don't suppose she'll want to pay for them. Don't take
coonskins. I won't have coonskins. If I can't sell my goods for cash,
I'll keep 'em. Butter and eggs will answer once in a while, if the
customer is poor and has no money, but I draw the line on coonskins. The
Hawkinses always have coonskins. I believe they breed coons, but they
can't trade their odoriferous pelts to me. If she has them, tell her to
take them to Hackett's. He'll trade for fishing worms, if she has any,
and then perhaps get more than his shoddy goods are worth. Well, here's
the calomel and the goods. Get the cash or charge them. There's a letter
in the C box for Seal Coble. Give it to Mrs. Hawkins, and