see,” protested Nancy, much embarrassed, “I really have no authority to—buy. Mother is not here—”

“You assume no obligation,” insisted the man. “As this is your store we are glad, in fact anxious, to leave you a sample line. If you sell them you make a very fair commission, if you do not I pick them up and try something else on my next trip.”

He opened the case, and presently was displaying a bewildering line of such fishing tackle and general sport supplies as Nancy had never dreamed of. Ruth and Isabel were fascinated. They suggested, in spite of their better judgment, that Nancy stock up with the pretty little trout flies, the feathery kind tied to fish hooks. Then Ruth thought they ought to have at least one box of the dry flies, the sort that floats without the hook, and before they knew it the salesman had deposited upon the counter, goods worth so much money, that Nancy could only gasp at the transaction.

“But I haven’t any place—”

“This little case, if I may suggest,” said the salesman, “is admirably suited. You could move your cards to the far end, couldn’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” chimed in Ruth, “and Nancy, just see the lovely window card!” She was holding up a big folder that had been neatly packed in, folded in sections, within the suitcase. “Why, it will be wonderful to have such goods, and I’m sure the summer folks from Breakneck Hill will just buy us out as soon as they hear we have such splendid stuff.”

“I think you are right,” replied the salesman. “But as you seem doubtful, Miss Brandon, I’ll return later and talk with your mother, if you wish.”

Nancy considered quickly. Her mother should not be annoyed with such details; also, the special sale was to be a matter left entirely with the girls and Ted. He was claiming and entitled to a share in certain articles. So she answered:

“I don’t think that will be necessary. Mother won’t object, I guess, if I don’t have to sign anything—”

“Nothing whatever,” she was assured.

“But how did you find out about us?” asked Isabel. “This is such a tiny store and it is on the back road, really.”

“The tiny store on the back road with the quaint name Whatnot Shop is more attractive than a big public place,” replied the salesman. He had handed Nancy his card and she saw that his name was 

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