The mention of payment annoyed me.

"There is no charge, Miss Grant," was all I could trust myself to say.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Surely you must understand that it is
not my habit to engage men to work for me without payment!"

"We did not look upon it in the nature of ordinary work," I put in.
"It was a pleasure, and we did it as any neighbours would do a favour."

Her eyes closed a little angrily.

"I do not accept favours from men I am unacquainted with," she retorted
unreasonably. "How much do I owe,--please?"

"And I do not hire myself out, like a dock labourer or a mule, to any
one who cares to demand my services," I replied, in equally cold tones.

She stood in hesitation, then she stamped her rubber-soled foot
petulantly. "But I will not have it. I insist on paying for that
work."

I shook my head.

"If you wish to insult me, Miss Grant,--insist."

I could see that she was suffering from conflicting lines of reasoning.
Her haughtiness changed and her eyes softened.

"Mr. Bremner,--what do I owe for the work,--please?" she pleaded. "You
are a gentleman,--you cannot hide that from me."

Discovered! I said to myself.

"Surely you understand my position? Surely you do not wish to
embarrass me?"

Ah, well! I thought. If it will please her, so be it. And I'll make
it a stiff charge for spite.

"Thirty dollars!" I exclaimed, as if it had been three. "Our labour
was worth that much." I looked straight at her in a businesslike way.

It was her turn to gasp, but she recovered herself quickly.

"The cost of labour is, I presume, high, up here?" she commented.

"Yes!--very high,--sky-high! You see, I shall have to pay that old
Jew-rascal assistant of mine at least two and a half dollars for his
share, so that it will not leave very much for the master-mind that
engineered the project."

She turned her eyes on me to ascertain if I were funning or in earnest,
but my face betrayed nothing but the greatest seriousness.

She counted out her grocery money and I gave her a receipt. Then she
laid three ten dollar bills on the counter to pay for the piano moving.

"Thank you!" I said, as I walked round the counter to a little box
which was nailed on the wall near the door; a box which the Rev.
William Auld had put up with my permission on the occasion of his last
visit, a box which I never saw a logger pass without patronising if he
noticed it. On the outside, it bore the words:--