ised him, and so excellent was his service
that they could not afford to go elsewhere. His horses and delivery
wagons were more expensive and finer than any one else's in town. He
paid his drivers, and clerks, and bookkeepers higher wages than any
other store could dream of paying. As a result, he got more efficient
men, and they rendered him and his patrons a more satisfying service. In
short, to deal at Childs' Cash Store became almost the infallible index
of social status.

To cap everything, came the great San Francisco earthquake and fire,
which caused one hundred thousand people abruptly to come across the Bay
and live in Oakland. Not least to profit from so extraordinary a boom,
was Josiah Childs. And now, after twelve years' absence, he was
departing on a visit to East Falls, Connecticut. In the twelve years he
had not received a letter from Agatha, nor had he seen even a photograph
of his and Agatha's boy.

Agatha and he had never got along together. Agatha was masterful. Agatha
had a tongue. She was strong on old-fashioned morality. She was
unlovely in her rectitude. Josiah never could quite make out how he had
happened to marry her. She was two years his senior, and had long ranked
as an old maid She had taught school, and was known by the young
generation as the sternest disciplinarian in its experience. She had
become set in her ways, and when she married it was merely an exchange
of a number of pupils for one. Josiah had to stand the hectoring and
nagging that thitherto had been distributed among many. As to how the
marriage came about, his Uncle Isaac nearly hit it off one day when he
said in confidence: "Josiah, when Agatha married you it was a case of
marrying a struggling young man. I reckon you was overpowered. Or maybe
you broke your leg and couldn't get away."

"Uncle Isaac," Josiah answered, "I didn't break my leg. I ran my
dangdest, but she just plum run me down and out of breath."

"Strong in the wind, eh?" Uncle Isaac chuckled.

"We've ben married five years now," Josiah agreed, "and I've never known
her to lose it."

"And never will," Uncle Isaac added.

This conversation had taken place in the last days, and so dismal an
outlook proved too much for Josiah Childs. Meek he was, under Agatha's
firm tuition, but he was very healthy, and his promise of life was too
long for his patience. He was only thirty-three, and he came of a
long-lived stock. Thirty-three more years with Agatha and Aga