"Is there anything else ?" "Not to-day," answered Miss Annie, after throwing a despairing glance upon the rolls of calicoes, the coils of clothes-lines, the battered tin boxes of tea and sugar, the dusty and chimneyless kerosene lamps, and the long rows of canned goods with their gaudy labels; and then she departed.
When she had gone, the storekeeper returned to his seat on the mackerel kit, and was accosted by a pensive neighbor in high boots who sat upon the upturned end of a case of brogans.

"You didn't make no sale that time, Peckett," said he.
"No," said the storekeeper, "her idees is a little too fancy for our stock of goods." "Whar's her husband, anyway ?" asked a stout, elderly man in linen trousers and faded alpaca coat, who was seated on two boxes of pearl starch, one on top of the other.

"I've heard that he was a member of the legislatur'.

Is that so ?" "He's not that, you can take my word for it," said Tom Peckett.

"Old Miss Keswick give me to understand that he was in the fertilizing business." "That ought to be a good thing for the old lady," said the man on the starch boxes.