"But I thought you were going to Syracuse," Max rejoined.
"I was," Mrs. Duryea said as she started to leave; "but I ain't now."
The news of Max Kirschner's return spread through Cyprus like a brush fire, and twenty minutes after Mrs. Duryea had left Sam Green's store Max was holding a levee behind the old counter. By two o'clock he had greeted over fifty old friends and at least twenty of them had made purchases in amounts varying from five to thirty dollars.
"As sure as you're standing there, Mr. Kirschner," Sam declared, "I sold more goods this morning as in the last two months."
Max grinned delightedly. His face was flushed and he looked at least ten years younger as he patted Sam on the shoulder.
"Look out for the rush this afternoon," he said. "If we only had a better assortment, Green, I think we could keep this up for a week longer and after that we could do a good, steady business."
"We?" Sam exclaimed.
Max coloured and smiled in an embarrassed fashion.
"Of course I mean you," he said.