Three Stories
By V., O., C.S.

"BUT I'm not very tall, am I?" said the little book-keeper, coming close to the counter so as to prevent me from seeing that she was standing on tiptoe.

"A p'tite woman," said I, "goes straight to my heart."

The book-keeper blushed and looked down, and began fingering a bunch of keys with one hand.

"How is the cold?" I asked. "You don't seem to cough so much to-day."

"It always gets bad again at night," she answered, still looking down and playing with her keys.

I reached over to them, and she moved her hand quickly away and clasped it tightly with the other.

I picked up the keys: - "Store-room, Cellar, Commercial Room, Office," said I, reading off the names on the labels - "why, you seem to keep not only the books, but everything else as well."

She turned away to measure out some whisky at the other