“Oh, some one else may start one.  It isn’t a bad place for a grocery and notion shop,” answered the black-whiskered man.  “But Mrs. Golden can’t keep this store any more.”

“Maybe she can if my father will help her!” exclaimed Bunny.  “He said he would!”

“Well, if some one would pay what she owes, of course she could keep on with the store,” agreed Mr. Flynt.  “But we can’t wait any longer.  We’ve got to sell her out.”

When Bunny and Sue told at home that evening what had happened, Mrs. Brown said: 

“Walter, can’t you do something for that poor old woman?”

“Yes, I must try,” he said.  “I meant to look into her affairs long before this, but I’ve had so many other things to do that I let it go.  We’ll save the store for her if we can.”

“’Cause we like to help tend it,” said Bunny.  “Don’t we, Sue?”

“Yes,” answered the little girl.

Instead of going to his boat and fish dock the next morning, as he nearly always did, Mr. Brown called to Bunny to get ready and go down to the corner grocery with him.

“May I come?” asked Sue.

“Yes,” her father answered.  “You are in this as much as Bunny.  We are going to help Mrs. Golden if we can.”

They found the old lady sitting sadly in her easy chair near the back of the store where she generally could be found when no customers needed to be waited on.

“Good morning, Mrs. Golden,” said Mr. Brown.  “I understand you are in trouble.”

“If owing a lot of money and not being able to pay it is trouble, then I’m in almost up to my eyes,” she answered, with a shake of her head.

“Like I was in the brook!” said Sue.

“Yes, I suppose so,” sighed Mrs. Golden.  “I’m afraid I’ve got to lose my store.”

“Tell me how much you owe,” begged Mr. Brown.

And when he heard he shook his head, saying: 

“It is more than I thought.  If it had been only about a hundred dollars I might have lent it to you, or found some one who would, but now I’m afraid nothing can be done.”

“Do you mean the store will have to close?” asked Bunny.

“I’m afraid so, Son,” replied his father.

“Oh dear!” sighed Mrs. Golden!  “If Philip were only here then I might——­”

“Well, here I am, Mother!” cried a voice at the front door.  “What’s the trouble?” and in came big, strong, jolly Philip Golden.  He had just arrived on a train.  “What’s wrong?” he asked, for he could see that his mother had tears in her eyes.

The trouble was soon told.

“Sell the store!” he cried.  “I guess not much!  Didn’t you get my telegram, Mother?”

“What telegram?”

“The one telling about the legacy.  We have it—­several thousand dollars!  It won’t make us rich, but it will be enough to make you comfortable for life.  I heard the good news yesterday, and I sent you a telegram telling about it so you wouldn’t worry any more.”