"Who can that be?" said Mrs. Duncan in alarm.
She opened the door, and a tall, dark-faced young man stood before her.
"Why, Abe," said Mrs. Duncan, "what has brought you here at this late hour? I hope that nothing has happened!"
"That bill of yours. You paid me two dollars and six cents, did you not? It was not right."
"Isn't it? Well, I paid you all that you asked me, like an honest woman, so I am not to blame for any mistake. How much more do you want? If it isn't too much I'll pay it, for I think that you mean well."
"More! That isn't it, Mrs. Duncan; you paid me six cents too much—you overpaid me. It was my fault."
"Your fault!—and honest Abe Lincoln, you have walked two miles out of your way to pay me that six cents! Why didn't you wait until to-morrow?"
"I couldn't."
"Why, what is going to happen?"
"I can't sleep with a thing like that on my conscience. Now I feel light and free again."