"That's good. Well, if you get stuck, get your wife to help you. There's a good deal in havin' been behind a counter, besides what Mrs. Somerton is of her own self."
Then Caleb turned up his coat-collar and sauntered out.
"Grace," shouted Philip, as soon as the door had closed, "do come here! Allow me to congratulate you on having made a conquest of Caleb Wright. He kindly tolerates me, but 'tis quite plain that he regards you as the head of the family. I was going to replace that shabby old sign over the door, but now I fear that Caleb will demand that the new one shall read 'Mrs. Somerton & Husband.'"
Grace's face glowed as merrily as if it had not been tear-stained half an hour before, and she replied:—
"I've not seen a possible conquest—since I was married—that would give me greater pleasure; for I am you, you know, and you are me, and the you-I would be dreadfully helpless if we hadn't such a man to depend upon."
"'You-I'! That's a good word—a very good one. You ought to be richly paid for coining it."
"Pay me, then, and promptly!" Grace replied.
Some forms of payment consume much time when the circumstances do not require haste: they also have a way of making the payer and payee oblivious to their surroundings, so Philip and Grace supposed themselves alone until they heard the front door close with a loud report, and saw a small boy who seemed to consist entirely of eyes. Grace quickly and intently studied the label of an empty powder keg on the counter, while Philip said:—
"Good morning, young man. What can we do for you?"
"Wantapoundo'shinglenails," was the reply, in nasal monotone.