not sell at that price.

"What makes them want it so much?" she asked on the occasion of his
second visit.

"Oh, just an idea they've got that it's going higher," Inches answered
indifferently.

"Well, s'posing it is; why should I want to sell?"

"Why, you'd have made a pretty good thing in it, and you might like to
have your bird in hand, don't you know?"

Marietta sat down to her flower-books and worked on composedly, while
Inches still lingered.

"That's a real pretty painting of the Peak over there," he remarked
presently, nodding his head toward a crude representation of that
much-travestied mountain.

Marietta knew better, but she said nothing.

"What do you ask for that now?" he persisted.

"Oh, I guess about a hundred dollars," she returned facetiously. "The
Peak comes high now-a-days, 'cause Lame Gulch is right round on the
other side."

There was another pause before the broker spoke again.

"Then, s'posing I could get you forty-six cents for your stock, would
you take it? That's rather above the market price, you know."

"'Taint up to my price," said Marietta, trying to make a group of
painter's brush look artistic.

"What would you take for it then?" asked Inches.

Marietta put down her work and drew herself up, to rest her back, and
make an end of the interview at a blow.

"Look here, Mr. Inches," she said, with decision; "seeing you want the
stock so bad, I guess I'll hold on to it!"

She was still holding on with unwavering persistence when, a few days
after that, Dayton came into the shop. He wondered, as he entered the
door, what could be the unpleasant association that was aroused in him
by the familiar atmosphere of skins and dried flowers and general
"stock in trade" which pervaded the place. No sooner did his eye fall
upon Marietta coming towards him, however, than he recalled the
distasteful part of adviser which had been forced upon him on the
occasion of his last visit. He tried to think that he had washed his
hands of the whole matter, but, "Mrs. Jim," he found himself saying;
"did you go into mines the other day?"

"Yes."

"What did you buy?"

"H. O. P."

"What did you pay?"

"Twenty cents."

"Sold yet?"

"No."

Dayton took the little parcel she was handing him. He had come in for a
lead-pencil and had bought, in addition, a stamp-box, a buttonhook, and
a plated silver photograph frame, not one of which newly acquired
treasures he had the slightest use for. Th