Mr. Drummond's store was of fair size, and contained a considerable and varied stock of dry goods. Not only the people of Stapleton, but a considerable number of persons living outside the town limits, but within a radius of half-a-dozen miles, came there to purchase goods.

Besides Mr. Drummond there was a single salesman, a young man of twenty-two, who wore a cravat of immense size, and ostentatiously displayed in his bosom a mammoth breastpin, with a glass imitation diamond, which, had it been real, would have been equal in value to the entire contents of the store. This young man, whose name was Nichols, received from Mr. Drummond the munificent salary of four hundred dollars per annum. Having a taste for dress, he patronized the village tailor to the extent of his means, and considerably beyond, being at this moment thirty dollars in debt for the suit he wore.

Besides this young man, there had formerly been a younger clerk, receiving a salary of four dollars weekly. He had been dismissed for asking to have his pay raised to five dollars a week, and since then Mr. Drummond had got along with but one salesman. As, however, the business really required more assistance, he was quite willing to employ Walter on board wages, which he estimated would not cost him, at the most, more than two dollars a week.

"Mr. Nichols," said Mr. Drummond, "I have brought you some help. This is Walter Conrad, a distant relative." (Had Walter been rich, he would have been a near relative.) "He knows nothing of the business. You can take him in charge, and give him some idea about prices, and so forth."

"Yes, sir," said the young man, in an important tone. "I'll soon break him in."

Mr. Nichols, who gave up what little mind he had to the subject of clothes, began to inspect Walter's raiment. He had sufficient knowledge to perceive that our hero's suit was of fine fabric, and tastefully made. That being the case, he concluded to pay him some attention.

"I'm glad you've come," he said. "I have to work like a dog. I'm pretty well used up to-day. I was up till two o'clock dancing."

"Were you?"

"Yes. There was a ball over to Crampton. I go to all the balls within ten miles. They can't do without me."

"Can't they?" asked Walter, not knowing what else to say.

"No. You see there isn't much style at these country balls,—I mean among the young men. They don't know how to dress. Now I give my mind to it, and they try to imitate me. I don't trust any tailor entirely. I just tell him what I want, and how I want it. Higgins, the tailor here, has improved a good deal since he began to make clothes for me."

"Indeed!"

"Where do you have your clothes made?"

"In Willoughby. That's where I have always lived till I came here."

"Is there a good tailor there?"

"I think so; but then I am not much of a judge."

Just then a customer came in, and Mr. Nichols was drawn away from his dissertation on dress.

"Just notice how I manage," he said in a low voice.

Accordingly Walter stood by and listened.

"Have you any calicoes that you can recommend?" asked the woman, who appeared to be poor.

"Yes, ma'am, we've got some of the best in the market,—some that will be sure to suit you."

He took from the shelves and displayed a very ugly pattern.

"I don't think I like that," she said. "Haven't you got some with a smaller figure?"

"The large figures are all the rage just now, ma'am. Everybody wears them."

"Is that so?" asked the woman, irresolutely.

"Fact, I assure you."

"How much is it a yard?"

"Fifteen cents only."

"Are you sure it will wash?"

"Certainly."

"I should like to look at something else."

"I'll show you something else, but this is the thing for you."

He brought out a piece still uglier; and finally, after some hesitation, his customer ordered ten yards from the first piece. He measured it with an air, and, folding it up, handed it to the customer, receiving in return a two-dollar bill, which the poor woman sighed as she rendered in, for she had worked hard for it.

"Is there anything more, ma'am?"

"A spool of cotton, No. 100."

When the customer had left the store, Nichols turned complacently to Walter.

"How did you like that calico?" he asked.

"It seemed to me very ugly."

"Wasn't it, though? It's been in the store five years. I didn't know as we should ever get rid of it."

"I thought you said it was all the rage."

"That's all gammon, of course."

"Haven't you got any prettier patterns?"

"Plenty."

"Why didn't you show them?"

"I wanted to get off the old rubbish first. It isn't everybody that would buy it; but she swallowed everything I said."

"She seemed like a poor woman, who couldn't afford to buy a dress very often."

"No, she doesn't come more than twice a year."

"I think you ought to have given her the best bargain you could."

"You don't understand the business, Walter," said Nichols, complacently.

"Mr. Drummond," he said, going up to his employer, "I've just sold ten yards of those old-style calicoes."

"Very good," said Mr. Drummond, approvingly. "Shove them off whenever you get a chance."

"If that is the way they do business, I shan't like it," thought Walter.

"You can fold up those goods on the counter, and put them back on the shelves," said Nichols. "Customers put us to a great deal of trouble that way sometimes. Mrs. Captain Walker was in yesterday afternoon, and I didn't know but I should have to get down all the stock we had before we could suit her."

"Why didn't you pick out something, and tell her it was all the rage?" said Walter, smiling.

"That wouldn't go down with her. She's rich and she's proud. We have to be careful how we manage with such customers as she is. That reminds me that her bundle hasn't gone home yet. I'll get you to carry it up right away."

"I don't know where she lives."

"It's a large, square white house, about a quarter of a mile down the road, at the left hand. You can't miss it."

The bundle was produced, and Walter set off in the direction indicated. He had only gone a few rods when he overtook Joshua, who was sauntering along with a fishing-pole in his hand.

"Where are you going with that big bundle?" asked Joshua.

"To Mrs. Captain Walker's."

"I'll show you where it is. I'm going that way."

Joshua's manner was considerably less deferential than the day before, when he supposed Walter to be rich. Now he looked upon him as his father's hired boy.

"Isn't that bundle heavy?" he asked.

"Yes, rather heavy."

"I wouldn't be seen carrying such a bundle."

"Why not?"

"I feel above it."

"I don't."

"It's different with you—now I mean. My father's worth money, and I suppose you will be poor."

"I don't mean to be poor all my life, but I shall have to work for all the money I am worth."

"It'll take a good while to get rich that way. If your father hadn't lost his money, you could have fine times."

"I don't know about that. I never cared so much about inheriting money."

They were passing the village school-house. Through the open windows floated the strain of a song which the children were singing. This was the verse which the boys heard:—

"That is going to be my motto," said Walter.

"What?"

"'Paddle your own canoe.' I'm going to depend upon myself, and I mean to succeed."

"That's all very well, if you've got to do it; but I expect the old man will leave me twenty-five thousand dollars, and that's a good deal better than paddling my own canoe."

"Suppose your father should fail?"

"There isn't any danger. He'll take good care of his money, I'll warrant that. I wish he wasn't so mighty stingy, for I'd like a little now. But there's Captain Walker's. I'll wait here, while you go and leave the bundle."

Walter performed his errand, and rejoined Joshua, who had seated himself on the fence.

"I'm going a-fishing," said Joshua. "If you didn't have to work you could go with me."

"I must hurry back to the store."

So the two parted company.

"I wish he'd been rich," thought Joshua. "I'd have borrowed some money of him. It won't pay to be polite to him, now it turns out he isn't worth a cent."

Walter went back to the store with a lighter heart than before. There was something in the song he had heard which gave him new strength and hopefulness, and he kept repeating over to himself at intervals, "Paddle your own canoe!"