THE FAMILY OF MICHAEL AROUT

September 15th, Eight Oclock

This morning, while I was arranging my books, Mother Genevieve came in,and brought me the basket of fruit I buy of her every Sunday. For thenearly twenty years that I have lived in this quarter, I have dealt inher little fruit-shop. Perhaps I should be better served elsewhere, butMother Genevieve has but little custom; to leave her would do her harm,and cause her unnecessary pain. It seems to me that the length of ouracquaintance has made me incur a sort of tacit obligation to her; mypatronage has become her property.

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