He had the trader's genius for discovering and catering to the weaknesses of people, and hence his store became, for certain days of the week, the center of life during the recreation hours.

The store itself was a somewhat pretentious successor to the little brush cabin with wide open front, where in the old days the boys used to gather, and lying upon piles of fragrant balsam boughs before the big blazing fire placed in front, used to listen to the master talk, and occasionally read.
Foxy's store was built of slabs covered with thick brush, and set off with a plank counter and shelves, whereon were displayed his wares.
His stock was never too large for his personal transportation, but its variety was almost infinite, bull's-eyes and liquorice, maple sugar and other "sweeties," were staples.

Then, too, there were balls of gum, beautifully clear, which in its raw state Foxy gathered from the ends of the pine logs at the sawmill, and which, by a process of boiling and clarifying known only to himself, he brought to a marvelous perfection.
But Foxy's genius did not confine itself to sweets.

He would buy and sell and "swap" anything, but in swapping no bargain was ever completed unless there was money for Foxy in the deal.

He had goods second-hand and new, fish-hooks and marbles, pot-metal knives with brass handles, slate-pencils that would "break square," which were greatly desired by all, skate-straps, and buckskin whangs.
But Foxy's financial ability never displayed itself with more brilliancy than when he organized the various games of the school so as to have them begin and end with the store.