Miss Armstrong looked very much disappointed.

"Oh, dear," she sighed. "I didn't know it would be as much as that. I--I'm 'fraid I can't get it."

"So? That's too bad. What was you cal'latin' to do with it, if you did get it?"

"I was going to give it to Captain Hedge. He misses his, now that it's rusted so fast that it won't go. But I can't get it. I haven't got but fourteen cents, ten that Mamma gave me this morning for being a good girl and taking my medicine nice yesterday, and four that Mrs. Smalley gave me for getting the eggs last week. And two dollars is EVER so much more than fourteen cents, isn't it?"

"Hum. . . . 'Tis a little more, that's right. It's considered more by the--um--er--best authorities. Hum . . . er . . . h-u-u-m.

Sometimes, though, I do take off a little somethin' for spot cash.

You'd pay spot cash, I presume likely, wouldn't you?"

"I--I don't know what spot cash is. I'd pay fourteen cents."

Jed rubbed his chin. "We-e-ll," he drawled, gravely, "I'm afraid I couldn't hardly knock off all that that comes to. But," taking another and much smaller vane from a shelf, "there's an article, not quite so big, that I usually get fifty cents for. What do you think of that?"

The child took the miniature swordfish and inspected it carefully.

"It's a baby one, isn't it," she observed. "Will it tell wind just as good as the big one?"

"Tell wind? Hum! . . . Don't know's I ever heard it put just that way afore. But a clock tells time, so I suppose there's no reason why a vane shouldn't tell wind. Yes, I guess 'twill tell wind all right."

"Then I think it might do." She seemed a little doubtful. "Only,"

she added, "fifty cents is lots more than fourteen, isn't it?"

Mr. Winslow admitted that it was. "But I tell you," he said, after another period of reflection, "seein' as it's you I'll make a proposal to you. Cap'n Eri Hedge is a pretty good friend of mine, same as he is of yours. Suppose you and I go in partners. You put in your fourteen cents and I'll put in the rest of the swordfish.

Then you can take it to Cap'n Eri and tell him that we're givin' it to him together. You just consider that plan for a minute now, will you?"

Miss Armstrong looked doubtful.

"I--I don't know as I know what you mean," she said. "What did you want me to do?"

"Why, consider the plan. You know what 'consider' means, don't you?"

"I know a Mother Goose with it in. That one about the piper and the cow:

'He took up his pipes and he played her a tune, Consider, old cow, consider.'

But I don't know as I SURELY know what he wanted the cow to do?

Does 'consider' mean see if you like it?"

"That's the idea. Think it over and see if you'd like to go halves with me givin' the fish to Cap'n Hedge."

The curls moved vigorously up and down.

"I think I should," she decided.

"Good! Now you wait and I'll do it up."

He wrapped the toy vane in a piece of paper and handed it to his small patron. She gravely produced a miniature velvet purse with the remnants of some bead fringe hanging to its lower edge and laid a dime and four pennies on the top of a packing case between them.

It was growing dark in the shop and Jed lighted one of the bracket lamps. Returning, he found the coins laid in a row and Miss Armstrong regarding them somewhat soberly.

"There isn't any MORE than fourteen, is there?" she asked. "I mean--I mean fourteen cents takes all of it, doesn't it?"

Jed looked at her face. His eye twinkled.

"Well, suppose it didn't?" he asked. "What then?"

She hesitated. "Why," she stammered, "if--if there was ONE left over I--maybe I could buy something tomorrow at the candy store.

Not to-day, 'cause I told Mamma I wouldn't to-day 'cause I was sick at my stomach yesterday--but to-morrow I could."

Mr. Winslow carefully counted the coins and then, spreading them out on his big palm, showed them to her.

"There!" he said. "Now you've given me the fourteen cents. I've got 'em, haven't I?"

Miss Barbara solemnly nodded.

"Yes," continued Jed. "Now I'll put 'em back in your wallet again.

There they are, shut up in the wallet. Now you put the wallet in your pocket. Now take your fish bundle under your arm. There! now everything's settled. You've got the fish, haven't you? Sartin'.

Yes, and I've been paid for it, haven't I?"

The child stared at him.

"But--but--" she began.

"Now--now don't let's argue about it," pleaded Jed, plaintively.

"Argum always gives me the--er--epizootic or somethin'. You saw me have the money right in my hand. It's all settled; think it over and see if it ain't. You've got the fish and I've HAD the fourteen cents. Now run right along home and don't get lost. Good-night."

He led her gently to the door and closed it behind her. Then, smiling and shaking his head, he returned to the inner shop, where he lit the lamps and sat down for another bit of painting before supper. But that bit was destined not to be done that night. He had scarcely picked up his brush before the doorbell rang once more. Returning to the outer room, he found his recent visitor, the swordfish under one arm and the doll under the other, standing in the aisle between the stacked mills and vanes and looking, so it seemed to him, considerably perturbed.

"Well, well!" he exclaimed. "Back again so soon? What's the matter; forget somethin', did you?"

Miss Armstrong shook her head.

"No-o," she said. "But--but--"

"Yes? But what?"

"Don't you think--don't you think it is pretty dark for little girls to be out?"

Jed looked at her, stepped to the door, opened it and looked out, and then turned back again.

"Why," he admitted, "it is gettin' a little shadowy in the corners, maybe. It will be darker in an hour or so. But you think it's too dark for little girls already, eh?"

She nodded. "I don't think Mamma would like me to be out when it's so awful dark," she said.

"Hum! . . . Hum. . . . Does your mamma know where you are?"