Jenny Hart; for she was a free spoken little thing, and made no scruple of speaking out her thoughts. He was too slow and too tardy of speech for such off hand business as theirs, and was too mulish to learn, so she fairly told him that on the first of May—three months ahead—Ira Elkado was to take his place. She cast many an anxious glance at old Hosea Bringle, wishing him out of the concern too, for he was very much in her way, and it was really hard upon her, for thus it went all day, week in and week out: "It is three cents a yard, Hojer Bringle—(she always called him Hojer)—this way, miss, that old gentleman does not know our private mark, and yet he has lived in this shop seven years." The old man sighed, and little Jenny Hart heard him. "To be sure there is an excuse for him, as he was always at the desk when we gave credit—nine yards and a half?—yes, sir, stocks of all kinds, beautiful and well made—too high a price!—oh, no indeed—will I take eighteen shillings? no, but I'll split the difference—Hojer Bringle, give this gentleman five shillings—Hojer Bringle examines all the three dollar notes, sir." And so little Jenny Hart's tongue run on, while she cast rueful glances at the old man and strove to harden her heart against him.
Ira Elkado came in at one fold of the double door as Sigismund Sloper went out at the other, and Jenny Hart laughed out in one of the customers' face while selling him a pair of stockings. The man looked at his waistcoat and at his hands, and cast a glance at himself in the glass behind the little shop girl's head, but as nothing was amiss he attributed it to a joyous spirit, as in reality it was. "You are merry, Jenny Hart, this fine May morning," said he. "I suspect you are thinking of your lover."
"Lover! oh, sir," said Jenny Hart, casting a sly glance at Ira Elkado, as he solemnly stalked be-
