erself a perfect princess among
her mates. She "treated" them royally, I assure you. Everybody was so
obliging to her all day, and it was so nice to be able to make everybody
pleased and grateful! Both the day of judgment and the dying day were
put afar off--at least six months off.

Meantime, during the forenoon, Mr. Hampshire kept referring to the idea
that any one could want _five pounds of cinnamon_ at one time. Still,
little Roxy was Mrs. Reub Markham's next neighbor, and it was
perfectly probable that she should send by her.

Some time in the afternoon Mr. Reuben Markham came down to the store. He
was a wealthy man, jolly, but quick-tempered. Mr. Hampshire and he were
on excellent terms. "How are you, Markham? and what's your wife baking
to-day?"

"My wife baking?"

"Yes. I concluded you were going to have something extra spicy. Five
pounds of cinnamon look rather suspicious. Miss Janet's not going to
step off--is she."

"I'm not in that young person's confidence. I should say not, however.
But what do you mean by your five pounds of cinnamon?"

"Why, Mrs. Gildersleeve's little girl was in here this morning, and said
Mrs. Markham sent for five pounds of cinnamon and two of raisins."

"Mrs. Gildersleeve's girl? I know Mrs. Markham never sent for no such
things. She knew I was coming down myself this afternoon."

He followed Mr. Hampshire down the store to the desk. There it was in
the day-book:--

"Reub Markham, Dr., per Roxy Gildersleeve.
To 5 pounds cinnamon, 40c., $2 00
" 2 " raisins (layer), 20c., 40

That Mr. Reub Markham swore, must also be set down against him. He drove
home in a red rage. Through the open school-house door, little Roxy
Gildersleeve saw him pass; but her merry young heart boded no ill. Her
mouth was tingling pungently with the fine cinnamon, and in her pocket
yet were eight moist, fat, sugary raisins, to be slipped in her mouth
one by one, four during the geography lesson, four during the spelling
lesson.

As it happened, Mr. Gildersleeve was cultivating corn in a field that
fronted the highway. He and his wealthier neighbor were not on the best
of terms. A line fence and an unruly ox had made trouble. Mr.
Gildersleeve had sued Mr. Markham, and beat him; and Mr. Gildersleeve
didn't take any pains now to look up as he saw who was coming.

But Mr. Markham drew up his horses.

"Hello, Gildersleeve!"

"Hello yourself,