was about her a hint of delicate and unconscious
coquetry, noticeable as she talked with Miner while making her
purchases, the little man coming out from his retreat to serve her and
afterward following her into the street, where he was gone for almost an
hour.

In the meantime it was difficult for Ambrose to attend properly to
business, for never before had his partner left the store during working
hours save for his meals and to attend the wedding of his sisters, two
of whom had happily passed from his home to homes of their own. However,
no words on the subject were exchanged when Miner curtly explained that
Miss Dunham had too many bundles for a lady to carry.

It was after this extraordinary occurrence at their shop that Miner left
Ambrose and Moses alone for three evenings in succession, the tall man
sitting in his chair in the backyard under a ripening apple tree, with
Moses at his side and his friend's empty chair near by. But although
Ambrose drooped every now and then, he always smiled resolutely
afterward. "It'll plumb be the salvation of Miner."

On the fourth night, however, Ambrose, having gone early to bed and
fallen into a light sleep, was awakened by a knock at his kitchen door,
and on coming downstairs again found his friend outside. "It ain't no
hour to be in bed yet," Miner snapped. Knowing the little man had
something unusual on his mind his friend led him to their accustomed
refuge.

Ambrose and Miner were curiously incongruous figures that night in the
garden, for the one man wore an oriental silk dressing-gown over a pair
of hastily put on blue jean trousers; the gown, a scheme of deep rich
colours and designs, having drifted into the shop one day by accident,
had been seized upon by Ambrose to gratify a subconscious craving. It
was tied about his waist with a red cord, and as he lolled back in his
chair his eyes would travel from their study of his companion's face up
toward the stars which he could see shining through the spaces between
the leaves of his apple tree.

Miner kept his eyes always upon the ground; he had a chew of tobacco in
his mouth, his lips worked spasmodically, but he did not speak, neither
did be spit as a vent to his feelings, a tight, small man, buttoned up
both inside and out! By and by, however, when nearly an hour had passed
in silence, he rose to his feet.

"Reckon I'd better be goin', Ambrose; it's gettin' late. Good night."

But the tall man pushed him back a