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had ever traded a commodity for the same item, and it made no sense to do so, because they would have to pay the cost difference. When Frank queried about her purpose in doing so, Ellen was very blunt. “Well, if you must know, a mouse fell into our pitcher of cream and drowned. We fished him out, of course, and I was not about to let it go to waste, so I churned it into butter. My family, obviously, doesn’t want to eat it, so I figured I’d trade it, and you can sell it to someone else. What a person doesn’t know won’t hurt them.” Frank stood there for a moment, then nodded and took the butter back into the ice house. His young son stopped sweeping the floor and stood dumbfounded that his father, who was known for honesty and integrity, would agree to such a trade. But he started his chores again when Ellen’s glare told him to mind his own business. Frank was gone for only a short time, and when he came back, he carried a package of butter wrapped in the store’s generic paper. He handed it to Ellen. “The charge will only be a half dozen eggs instead of the normal dozen, since it is just butter in exchange for butter.” “That is downright neighborly of you,” Ellen said, 30