couldn't make change to save my life," gasped Miss
Jerusha from behind the sofa, whither she had fled.

"It is _my_ turn now. Be calm, and we shall soon get used to it."

Bracing herself to meet the merry chaff of the boys, as new and trying
to the old lady as real danger would have been, Miss Hetty stepped forth
into the hall to be greeted by a cheer, and then a chorus of demands for
everything so temptingly set forth upon her table. Intrenched behind a
barricade of buns, she dealt out her wares with rapidly increasing speed
and skill, for as fast as one relay of lads were satisfied another came
up, till the table was bare, the milk-can ran dry, and nothing was left
to tell the tale but an empty water-pail and a pile of five-cent pieces.

"I hope I didn't cheat any one, but I was flurried, sister, they were so
very noisy and so hungry. Bless their dear hearts; they are full now, I
trust." And Miss Hetty looked over her glasses at the crumby
countenances opposite, meeting many nods and smiles in return, as her
late customers enthusiastically recommended her establishment to the
patronage of those who had preferred Peck's questionable dainties.

"The Brighton Rock was a success; we must have a good store for
to-morrow, and more milk. Briggs drank it like a baby, and your nice
boy proposed my health like a little gentleman, as he is," replied Miss
Jerusha, who had ventured out before it was too late, and done the
honors of the can with great dignity, in spite of some inward
trepidation at the astonishing feats performed with the mug.

"Peck's nose is out of joint, if I may use so vulgar an expression, and
_our_ lunch a triumphant success. Boys know what is good, and we need
not fear to lose their custom as long as we can supply them. I shall
order a barrel of flour at once, and heat up the big oven. We have put
our hand to the work and must not turn back, for our honor is pledged
now."

With which lofty remark Miss Hetty closed the door, trying to look
utterly unconscious of the anxious Peck, who was flattening his nose
against his dingy window-pane to survey his rivals over piles of unsold
pastry.

The little venture _was_ a success, and all that winter the old ladies
did their part faithfully, finding the task more to their taste than
everlasting patchwork and knitting, and receiving a fair profit on
their outlay, being shrewd managers, and rich in old-fashioned thrift,
energy, and industry.

The boys revelled