"MUST I be as cross as that, Granny?"

On what conditions

"Hilda, don't answer me! did you come here to live?" Hilda stooped to kiss her. "That I would n't argue with you, and that I 'd stand between you and the disagreeables of life."

"Well, then, stick to your side of the bargain. The butcher, and the baker, and the grocer, with their false weights and damaged goods, are the greatest disagreeables I know. I don't want to come in contact with them, but I do want them to know what I think of them. You can tell Lacey, for me, that he is a cheat, and that, if he sends me such chops again, I 'll take away my custom." "Poor old Lacey," murmured Hilda. "After all, butchers are human creatures, are n't they?"

"Our relations are not human," said Mrs. Sidney, crisply; "our only connection is through chops and steaks and chickens; it 's my business to buy them and to eat them, and his to see that they are first-class and full weight. There is nothing else to be considered. There are only business relations between us."

"Very well, Granny," Hilda said, pulling her hat down to a more becoming line on her head. "Is there any other errand after I 've demolished Lacey?"

"Yes, stop at Fritz's, and tell him I never in my life ate anything less like muffins than those

he sent us last night. Tell him when I send to a baker-shop, I expect bread and not leather. If he keeps a tannery, that is another thing."

Hilda's smile brought out a sudden dimple. "It's all very well for you to laugh!" said Granny, severely. "You run around and do as you like. I sit here and eat what is fed to me and can only scold through you."

"As you do your charity," soothed Hilda. "May I lend the studious boy another volume of Parkman?"

"Certainly. Books are made to read. Bring me back a box of peppermints, by the way." "Yes, Granny."

"No you need n't, either., I don't need it. Take the fifteen cents to buy a toy for that measles child you told me about. Then stop at Freeman's, and tell him that out of the dozen eggs he sent me, seven were uneatable, absolutely uneatable, and two oranges were spotted. You can tell him my patience is gone. I've endured enough from him. All he lives for is to work off his poor stuff on me. Tell him he's a smart Aleck, but that he has overreached himself. I'm done with him, and I'm ready to tell any one who asks me that he 's a fraud."

"Very well, dear. I won't be gone long. Will you be lonely? I'll bring you back a bunch of daffies to cheer you up."

"I won't be lonely while I 've got myself for company. And you need n't bring me flowers. Give them to the German woman down at the bakery, if you want to. What are your errands now?"

"Tell old Lacey he is n't a human being; advise Fritz to go into the glove business, and announce to Freeman that a prison cell is awaiting him! You are sure I must be as cross as that?" and Hilda wrinkled her pretty brow. "I like to lend books and give toys better."

"Do as you 're told and don't argue!" answered her grandmother. "Charity is one thing and business another. They don't mix. The only reason I'm so well served is that I 'm stiff with the tradespeople. They know I won't stand any nonsense."

"Good-by, Granny dear," rippled Hilda, in a voice that did not seem made for scolding.

"Not that I am well served," added Granny, quickly. "Don't forget one word of what I've said."

"If I had a world," meditated Hilda, "I would n't have business and I would n't have charity. I'd have just human relations."

"That 's, only the 'sociology,' or whatever you call it, that you learned at college," grunted Granny; "it's all nonsense! It never would work."

When Hilda was gone, Granny rocked and knitted till Hannah brought in the mail. There was only the evening paper and one letter.

"From the Amalgamated Cement Association," murmured Mrs. Sidney. "I wonder if they can be paying an extra dividend."

The Amalgamated Cement Association was her source of supply. All that she owned was in it, and she lived by means of its quarterly dividends.

She peeped into the envelop in a flutter of hope. Once they had paid an extra dividend. Hilda should have a new frock if there was more money to spend.

But a printed statement instead of a check came out of the envelop. Granny read it once uncomprehendingly. She read it again incredulously, and the third time in a towering rage.

"Skip a quarter's dividend! And I'd just like to know what right they have to say whether they 'll pay dividends or not. The money 's mine, and I want my interest. I'll have it, too! It's all very well to say they 'll pay in full in October. I can't live on air for three months. I 'll let them know what I think of them!"

Hannah brought her writing materials, and the old lady, with a shaking hand, poured over four pages a letter of molten fire.

THE TRADESMEN INTERVIEWED

a mosquito can sting a stone wall. She could trample on Lacey, and Freeman, and Fritz, but a corporation was a different matter. If they did n't want to pay, one little old lady could not make them. With a heavy sigh, she tore her letter into scraps. Hilda, coming in, found her sitting limp and despondent.

"Well, Granny," she said gaily, "they 're all running around in sackcloth, with ashes fairly streaming from their heads, and they 're going to feed you on peacocks' tongues and Easter eggs forever after."

"Humph!" said Granny, grimly. "It won't even be roast chicken, let alone peacocks' tongues. We'll be lucky if we get a crust to nibble on."

She pushed the letter across the table, and Hilda read it.

"Oh, Granny dear!" she said, her arms around the old lady, "I 'm sorry I joked. But never mind; it will be all right. There are plenty of ways I can earn roast chickens. We'll be all right."

Mrs. Sidney straightened her cap. "There, child, don't crumple me all up. It's not a question of earning money. I keep you busy without that. The Amalgamated Cement is perfectly

sound; it will pay in time. It merely means waiting a few months."

"If that 's all," said hopeful Hilda, "that 's too easy. The rent 's paid, and Hannah will wait, and the tradespeople must give us credit."

"Humph!" commented Granny, rubbing her chin doubtfully.

BY HILDA'S GRANDMOTHER.

She was silent all supper-time, and scarcely listened when Hilda read the evening paper aloud. Hilda missed the usual caustic comments. "You 're not worrying, Granny?" she asked at last.

"Why should I worry? Can't a body think without being accused of worrying?"

"Tell me what you 're thinking about?"

Mrs. Sidney laughed shortly. "I was thinking just then that if I had n't anything else to eat, I could eat my own words. I told you this afternoon there were no human relations between me and my butcher, and now I 've got to live on the hope of his patience and trust and kindness for three months. 'T is n't business."

"He'll give us credit all right, Granny."

"I'm not so sure. Why should he? I 've walked over him rough-shod. I would n't be anxious to be obliging if I were in his place."

"He'll want to keep your custom." "Losing it would n't bankrupt him. It is n't pleasant to acknowledge you 're wrong, but I 've -been-wondering if it would n't have been wiser to be a little less-cross. I've been plain cross. I see it now that I 'm afraid they 'll be cross to me."

"But, Granny-"

"Don't interrupt. It can't be helped. I've got to swallow my pride and ask them all to wait. Telephone them the first thing in the morning to come and see me. The mountain can't go to Mohammed, so Mohammed must come to the mountain."

"Oh, but, Granny-" began Hilda, again.

"Don't argue."

"But won't you let me do

it ?"

"No, I won't. It was my bad-tempered tongue that got me into this mess, and the same tongue will have to get me out of it. Now I'm going to bed."

"Very well, Granny," answered Hilda, the demure.

Mrs. Sidney picked up her cane. "I suppose you 're laughing at me inside. There, you are laughing! I see it in your eyes."

"Oh, no, Granny dear!" protested Hilda. But her eyes were dancing, and she found it hard work to keep in her dimples.

"I suppose it is a funny sight to see an old woman eat humble-pie," said Mrs. Sidney, as she closed the door.

She ate her breakfast in grim silence the next morning. One does not chatter at the moment of going to the stake. Then, dressed in her best black silk for the solemn sacrifice, she sat enthroned in her big chair in the corner of the sitting-room, awaiting Lacey, and Freeman, and Fritz, duly summoned to appear before her. Hilda had vanished.

Lacey came first, bashfully twisting his cap. He was a smiling, round-faced little Irishman who had kissed the Blarney stone.

"Mr. Lacey," Mrs. Sidney said, "I have dealt with you for years and have always paid my bills promptly. Just now my money is delayed for a bit. I shall have to ask you to trust me until I can settle with you again."

"Sure, ma'am, sure!" exclaimed Lacey. "Don't think of it, ma'am. We all strike bad luck sometimes. It's proud I am to serve you, an' you'll take your own time about paying."

"That 's very good of you, Mr. Lacey," said Mrs. Sidney, swallowing hard.

"Don't mention it, ma'am. I'm only too glad if I can do anything for you. We get a good

many hard words in business, an' we appreciate our customers who are pleasant-spoken-like, an' patient, an' make us feel we 're human bein's, after all. I'm not forgettin' your kindness to my little girl. I'll be sending you in some chops this morning that would make a king's mouth water."

"Thank you," said Mrs. Sidney, and Lacey took his leave.

"Even a butcher is a human being,'" Granny murmured, repeating Hilda's words. "It was kind of him, but he could n't resist his fling at me. He appreciates his 'customers who are pleasant-spoken-like an' patient.' I suppose I can't resent his wit so long as he was obliging. I did n't even know he had a little girl!"

And

Then Fritz entered. His broad German face also held a genial smile as he listened to Mrs. Sidney's explanation.

"Dot 's all right!" he said. "I alvays trust my goot customers. You alvays vos so kind eef I make mistake, I like to help you. My vife she t'anks you for the flowers, too. All our customers don't think we are human beings too, no."

"Thank you, Mr. Fritz," Granny said. Her voice was dignified, but the hand that rested on her stick trembled a little. "Good-by." "Goot day," answered the baker. message-vot you say-about the muffins. time, dey 'll be just right. Goot day."

"I got de Next

Fritz going out passed Freeman coming in. "Good morning, Mr. Freeman," Mrs. Sidney began again. Her cheeks were flushed by this time. "My money will be delayed a little this quarter, and I must ask you to wait, too, for your bill."

Freeman seated himself comfortably in a rocker. "I'll be glad to wait as long as you want, Madam," answered Mr. Freeman. "You pay up prompt, and I like your pleasant, considerate ways. I'm willin' to oblige customers who treat me like a human being. My, you 've got a sight of books! Johnny does appreciate reading them."

Mrs. Sidney tapped her cane. "You 're all crazy, I think. What do you mean by 'patient' and 'considerate'? You got the message I sent you yesterday?"

"Yes 'm. Miss Sidney gave it straight. I took the eggs off the charge, and I 'll see nothing like that happens again."

Granny bit her lip. "Can you tell me just what Miss Sidney said to you?"

Mr. Freeman smiled. "Sure I can! I don't forget what Miss Sidney says. She knows her own mind, but she speaks it soft like. I tell my girls if they'll watch Miss Sidney, they 'll know a lady all right."

"What did she say?"

"She said that you were brought up in the country, and so were very particular about your eggs, and that she took extra good care that you should have what you like because you did n't get about much. And she said you liked the last bacon so much, and would I please personally look after the eggs and see if they were just what you liked. And then she gave me the history book you lent Johnny and came away. won't have any more trouble, Mrs. Sidney." "I'm very glad," said Mrs. Sidney, dryly. "Thank you for your consideration. I appreciate it. Good-by."

You

When Freeman was gone, Mrs. Sidney sat alone thinking. Her thoughts were varied. Sometimes she tapped the floor and frowned, sometimes she looked out of the window and smiled. Hilda, stealing into the room, caught the smile.

"Oh, Granny dear," she said, her arms once more about her grandmother's neck. "Was it very horrid? They were nice human men, were n't they?"

Mrs. Sidney tried to frown again.

"Hilda Sidney, for two years I have been sending messages through you. What have you done with them?"

Hilda raised her head to look at the old lady's face. She laughed her soft laugh again as she put her head back on her grandmother's shoulder.

I've

"I've given them, Granny, every one. given your gifts and your messages. I only just translated them a little. I put them into your heart language instead of your word language. You said cross words, but your heart was always loving, and I carried the message from that."

"Humph!" grunted Granny. "So you 've been practising your 'sociological' ideas behind my back! I suppose now you think you 've got me converted too."

Hilda laughed and hugged her close. "You did n't need converting, Granny; only convincing. Don't you believe now that the real world is n't just business and charity, but is full up with kindly human nature that gives and takes?" "Perhaps," said Granny.

TOMMY IS HAPPY BY BEING PERFECTLY MISERABLE.

TOMMY Scuffed his bare, brown feet in the grass and did n't even notice how cooling and refreshing to his bare toes the green blades were. Usually he just loved to feel them, but this afternoon he just did n't want to find anything pleasant or nice in the things he was accustomed to. A scowl, a deep, dark, heavy scowl, had chased all merriment from his round, freckled face. It seemed as if the very freckles were trying to hide from it. Tommy did n't care. He said so. He said so right out loud. He did n't care if all the world knew it. He wanted the world to know it. It was a horrid old world anyway, this world which made a fellow go hunt up and drive home a lot of pesky cows just when all the other fellows were over at the swimming-hole. It always was that way whenever there was anything interesting or particular to do, or any fun going on. Yes, it was a horrid old world, this world in which Tommy lived, and he was quite willing that everybody should know it.

The truth is, Tommy was deep, very deep, in the sulks. He was so deep in them that he could n't see jolly round Mr. Sun smiling down on him. He could n't see anything lovely in the beautiful, broad, Green Meadows with the shadows of the

He

clouds chasing one another across them. could n't hear the music of the birds and the bees. He could n't even hear the Merry Little Breezes whispering secrets as they danced around him. He could n't see and hear because-well, because he would n't see and hear. That is always the way with people who go way down deep in the sulks.

Presently he came to a great big stone. Tommy stopped and scowled at it just as he had been scowling at everybody and everything. He scowled at it as if he thought it had no business to be there. Yet all the time he was.glad that it was there. It was just the right size to sit on and make himself happy by being perfectly miserable. You know, some people actually find pleasure in thinking how miserable they are. The more miserable they can make themselves feel, the sooner they begin to pity themselves, and when they begin to pity themselves, they seem to find what Uncle Jason calls a "melancholy pleasure." It was that way with Tommy. Because no one else seemed to pity him, he wanted to pity himself, and to do that right he must first make himself feel the most miserable he possibly could. So he sat down on the big stone, waved his stick for a few moments and then threw it away, put his chin in his two hands and his two elbows on his two knees, and began by scowling down at his bare, brown toes.

"There's never anything to do around here, and when there is, a fellow can't do it," he grumbled. "Other fellows don't have to weed the garden, and bring in wood, and drive the cows, and when they do, it ain't just when they want to have some fun. What 's vacation for, if it ain't to have a good time in? And how 's a fellow going to do it when he has to work all the time -anyway when he has to work just when he don't want to?" He was trying to be truthful.