Then a ride Sunday afternoon costs me three dollars.

So you see I don't have much money to spend upon luxuries." "I hope you don't go out to ride Sundays," said Katy.
"But I do." "What does your mother say to it ?" The clerk bit his lip again.

He did not like these allusions to his mother, who perhaps lived far away in the country, and had taught him to "remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy." Very likely his conscience smote him, as he thought of her and her blessed teachings in the far-off home of his childhood.
"I will give you two cents," said the clerk.
"I can't take that; it would hardly pay for the molasses, to say nothing of firewood and labor." "Call it three cents, then." "No, sir; the wholesale price is five cents for six sticks." "But I am poor." "You wouldn't be poor if you saved up your money, and kept the Sabbath.
Your mother----" "There, there! that's enough.

I will take a dozen sticks!" exclaimed the young man, impatiently interrupting her.
"A dozen ?" "Yes, a dozen, and there are twelve cents." "But I only ask ten." "No matter, give me the candy, and take the money," he replied, fearful, it may be, that she would again allude to his mother.
Katy counted out the sticks, wrapped them up in a paper, and put the money in her pocket.

If she had stopped at the door to study the young man's face, she might have detected a shadow of uneasiness and anxiety upon it.