"I hope so, I'm sure. Have you had the entire work of the store since
Uncle Jethro died?"
"Uncle--Jethro! I don't believe he'd have died if he'd heard you say
that! Well, yes, I've been alone here. Your husband wrote he'd be along
pretty soon, an' as the roads was so soft that the farmers didn't come
to town much, I didn't think it worth while to get extra help. Come
into the back room, won't you? There's chairs there, an' a good fire
too."
"Are the farmers your principal customers?" Grace asked, as she sank
into a capacious wooden armchair.
"Well, they're the most important ones. They take most time, too,
though some of the women-folks in this town can use more time in
spendin' a quarter an' makin' up their minds--principally the latter,
than--well, I don't s'pose you can imagine how they wait, an' fuss, an'
turn things over, an'--"
"Oh, indeed I can," said Grace; "for once I was a country girl, and in
New York I was a saleswoman in a store, and have waited on just such
customers half an hour at a time without making a sale, though the
store was one of the biggest in the city, and its prices were as low as
any."
"I want to know!" exclaimed Caleb, whose eyes had opened wide while
Grace talked. "You?--a country gal?--an' a saleswoman? I wouldn't have
thought it!"
"Why not? Don't I look clever enough?"
"Oh, that ain't it, but--"
"Some day, when you and Philip are real busy," suggested Grace,
"perhaps you'll let me help you behind the counter."
"Mrs. Somerton is a great joker," explained Philip, as Caleb continued
to look incredulous.
"But I wasn't joking," said Grace. "I'll really help in the store some
day when--"
"When your husband lets you, you said," remarked Philip.
"Well," drawled Caleb, slowly regaining his customary expression, "I
shouldn't wonder if Mrs. Somerton's the kind that's let to do pretty
much as she likes."