rip int'restin' for her I strikes for
Eighth-ave. through one of them messy cross streets where last week's
snow piles and garbage cans was mixed careless along the curb.

"What a wretched district!" complains Aunty.

"I thought you wanted to get to the nearest grocery," says I. "Hello!
Here's one of the Wiggins chain. How about patronizin' this?"

It's one of them cheap, cut-rate joints, you know, with the windows
plastered all over with daily bargain hints,--"Three pounds of
Wiggins's best creamery butter for 97 cents--to-day only," "Canned
corn, 6 cents--our big Monday special," and so on. Aunty sniffs a bit,
but fin'lly decides to take a chance and sails in in all her grandeur.
The one visible clerk was busy waitin' on lady customers, one with a
shawl over her head and the other luggin' a baby on her hip. So Aunty
raps impatient on the counter.

At that out from behind a stack of Wiggins's breakfast food boxes
appears a middle-aged gent strugglin' into a blue jumper three sizes too
small for him. He's kind of heavy built and slow movin' for an average
grocery clerk, and he's wearin' gold-rimmed specs; but when Aunty
proceeds to cross-examine him about his stock of tea he sure showed he
was onto his job. He seems to know about every kind of tea ever grown,
and produces samples of the best he has in the shop.

Aunty was watchin' him casual as he weighs out a couple of pounds, when
all of a sudden she unlimbers her long-handled glasses and takes a
closer look. "My good man," says she, "haven't I seen you somewhere
before?"

"Oh, yes," says he, scoopin' a pinch off the scales so they'd register
exactly to the quarter ounce.

"In some other store, perhaps?" says she.

"I think not," says he.

"Then where?" asks Aunty.

"Cooperstown," says he, reachin' for a paper bag and shootin' the tea in
skillful. "Anything more, Madam?"

"Cooperstown!" echoes Aunty. "Why, I haven't been there since I was a
girl."

"Yes, I know," says he. "You didn't even finish at high school. Cut
sugar, did you say, Madam?"

"A box," says Aunty, starin' puzzled. "Perhaps you attended the same
school?"

He nods.

"Oh, I seem to remember now," says she. "Aren't you the one they
called--er---- What was it you were called?"

"Woodie," says he. "Will you have lemons too? Fresh Floridas."

"Two dozen," says Aunty. "Well, well! You used to ask me to skate with
you on the lake, didn't you?"

"When my courage was running high," says