sition was wholly beyond
her understanding. But she replied to her new friend's question, saying
slowly:

"No; I won't go. Ol' Swallertail'd skin me alive if he caught me in the
village."

"Then I'll go alone; and I'll soon be back, though I must run over to
my own house first, to get my purse and my hat. Let me have one of the
cups for a sample, Ingua."

She left the child sitting on the plank runway and looking rather
solemn and thoughtful. Mary Louise was somewhat fearful that she might
run away in her absence, so she hurried home and from there walked into
the village, a tramp easily accomplished in ten minutes.

The store was the biggest building in town, but not very big at that.
It was "clapboarded" and two stories in height, the upper floor being
used by Sol Jerrems, the storekeeper, as a residence, except for two
little front rooms which he rented, one to Miss Huckins, the dressmaker
and milliner, who slept and ate in her shop, and the other to Mr.
Cragg. A high platform had been built in front of the store, for the
convenience of farmer customers in muddy weather, and there were steps
at either end of the platform for the use of pedestrians.

When Mary Louise entered the store, which was cluttered with all sorts
of goods, not arranged in very orderly manner, there were several
farmers present. But old Sol had his eye on her in an instant and
shuffled forward to wait upon her.

"I want some crockery, please," she said.

He looked at the sample cup and led her to a corner of the room where a
jumble of dishes crowded a single shelf.

"I take it you're one o' them new folks at the Kenton Place," he
remarked.

"Yes," said she.

"Thought ther' was plenty o' dishes in that place," continued Mr.
Jerrems, in a friendly tone. "But p'r'aps ye don't want the black folks
t' eat off'n the same things ye do yerselves."

Mary Louise ignored this speech and selected the dishes she wanted. She
had measured the broken platter and found another of the same size. Old
Sol wouldn't sell a saucer without a cup, explaining that the two
always went together: "the cup to hold the stuff an' the saucer to
drink it out'n." Without argument, however, the girl purchased what she
wanted. It was heavy, cheap ware of the commonest kind, but she dared
not substitute anything better for it.

Then she went to the grocery counter and after considering what Ingua
might safely hide and eat in secret she bought a tin of cooked corned