hile overtopping all else in importance, so far as this story is
concerned, was the shabby, old-fashioned two-story house known the town
over as the Express Office of John and Kitty Cleary, sporting above its
narrow street-door a swinging sign informing inquirers that trunks were
carried for twenty-five cents.

And not only trunks, but all of the movable furniture up and down the
avenue, and most of that from the adjacent regions, found their way
in and out of the Cleary wagons. Indeed Otto Kling's confidence in
Kitty--and Kitty was really the head of the concern--was so great that
he always refused to allow any of her rivals to carry his purchases
and sales, even at a reduced price, a temptation seldom resisted by the
economical Dutchman.

Nor did the friendly relations end here. Not only did Kitty's man Mike
hammer up at night the rusty iron shutters protecting Kling's side
window, clean away the snow before his store, and lend a hand in the
moving of extra-heavy pieces, but he was even known to wash the windows
and kindle a fire.

That Mike had delayed or entirely forgotten to hammer up these same iron
shutters when the stranger brought in the dressing-case accounted for
the fact of Otto Kling's shop having been kept open until so late. It
also accounted for the fact that when the same stranger appeared early
the next morning (Mike was tending the store) and made his way to where
the Irishman sat he found him conning the head-lines of the morning
paper. That worthy man-of-all-work, never having laid eyes on him
before, at once made a mental note of the intruder's well-cut English
clothes, heavy walking-shoes, and short brier-wood pipe, and, concluding
therefrom that he was a person of importance, stretched out his hand
toward the bell-rope in connection with the breakfast-room above, at the
same time saying with great urbanity: "Take a chair, or, if yer cold,
come up near the stove. Mr. Kling will be down in a minute. He's
up-stairs eatin' his breakfast with his little girl. I'm not his man or
I'd wait on ye meself. A little fresh, ain't it, after the wet night we
had?"

"I left a dressing-case here last night," ventured the intruder.

Mike's chin went out with a quick movement, his face expressive of
supreme disgust at his mistake. "Oh, is it that? Somethin' ye had to
sell? Well, then, maybe you'd better call durin' the day."

"No, I will wait--you need not ring. I have nothing else to do, and
Mr. Kling may h