“A Dollar on the Conscience” by T.S. Arthur is a story about a shopkeeper who accidentally overcharges a poor woman by a small amount. Though it’s just a minor error, the guilt weighs heavily on him, causing significant internal turmoil.
The story highlights how even a small act of dishonesty can disturb one’s peace of mind. It’s a moral tale emphasizing the importance of integrity and the consequences of ignoring one’s conscience.
Here is a short retelling. Enjoy
“A dollar per pound, right?” The woman was already opening her wallet.
Actually, the price was eighty-five cents per pound, and that’s what Mark, the grocery store clerk, had told her. But she’d misunderstood.
Mark had a solid reputation in the community. People knew him as an honest guy, a straight shooter. And he liked that. He liked it a lot. It gave him a sense of pride, knowing that people saw him as a good person.
But what if I just let this one slide? he thought as soon as she said, “a dollar per pound.” It’s just fifteen cents. What’s the harm in that?
As the woman loaded up on apples, he hesitated. His conscience was nagging at him, reminding him that it wasn’t right. Don’t do it, Mark, he told himself. It’s not worth it. But the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, he silently bagged the apples and placed them on the scale.
“Not too bad for the price,” the woman remarked, smiling as she handed him a ten-dollar bill.
“No, not bad at all,” Mark replied, his hand moving almost on autopilot as he counted out the change.
Why didn’t I just correct her? he scolded himself, feeling a pit form in his stomach. He knew he was doing something wrong, but for some reason, he just couldn’t stop himself. The extra dollar felt heavier in his pocket than any coin he’d ever handled.
“Can you have them delivered to 200 Maple Street?” she asked, giving him another polite smile.
Mark nodded, still unable to find his voice. He watched her leave, the doorbell chiming as she stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Tell her, tell her there was a mistake, his mind screamed. Just run after her and give it back. She’ll understand. But the words got stuck in his throat. Instead, he watched her walk away, disappearing into the city’s hustle and bustle.
It’s funny how something so small—a single dollar—can mess with your head. Mark couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d done something terribly wrong. The extra dollar weighed on his mind all day. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t enjoy anything.
It’s just a dollar, he kept telling himself, trying to downplay the situation. She probably wouldn’t even care. The apples were still a good deal at that price. But no matter how much he tried to convince himself, the guilt wouldn’t go away.
As he walked home that evening, the city’s usual sounds—the honking cars, the chatter of people—felt distant, like he was moving through some foggy dream. Why does this bother me so much? he wondered. Am I really going to let a dollar ruin my day?
But by the time he got home, the tension in his chest had grown unbearable. Even the warm welcome from his wife and kids couldn’t shake it.
“What’s wrong, honey? You seem a little off,” his wife asked, concern etching her features.
“Nothing, really,” he forced a smile, hoping to push the guilt aside. Don’t bring them into this, he thought. They don’t need to know.
“Are you sure? You look like something’s bothering you.”
“No, I’m fine. Just a long day, that’s all.”
His kids noticed it too. “Why aren’t you playing with us, Dad?” his youngest asked, tugging at his sleeve.
“I’m just tired, buddy. We’ll play later, okay?”
What kind of father am I if I can’t even enjoy time with my kids? he thought, guilt gnawing at him like a relentless ache. Every smile from his wife, every laugh from his kids—it all felt like judgment. He couldn’t take it. Grabbing his jacket, he told his wife he needed some fresh air and left the house.
Walking aimlessly through the city streets, he tried to shake the feeling, but it clung to him like a shadow. I could have just said something, he berated himself. I could have done the right thing. He knew he’d messed up, and that knowledge gnawed at him. By the time he got back home, his mind was clearer, but the guilt hadn’t faded.
The next morning, Mark was a little calmer. Maybe it was just the stress of the day before, he told himself. But as soon as he got to work, the woman from the day before walked in.
His heart skipped a beat, and he felt his face flush. She’s figured it out, he thought. She knows what I did.
But she just smiled and asked to see some other items. As she handed him a twenty to pay, he made a quick decision.
I’ll give her a dollar more than she’s owed, he thought, counting out the change. That should make things right. The woman glanced at the money, then paused, a slight frown crossing her face.
“Is everything okay?” Mark asked, trying to sound casual. Please don’t ask questions, he thought, hoping she’d just take the money and go.
“I think you gave me too much,” she said, checking the change again.
She caught it. “No, no, it’s all there,” Mark insisted, hoping she’d just let it go.
But she didn’t. “No, I’m pretty sure this is more than what you owe me.” She carefully counted it out again and handed back the extra dollar. “You must have made a mistake.”
Mark felt a wave of shame wash over him as she turned to leave, her figure disappearing through the door once more. The dollar was still in his hand, and the guilt was just as heavy as before. I can’t believe I tried to fix this with another lie.
I should get rid of it, he thought. Maybe give it to charity, or just throw it away. But his conscience wouldn’t let him off that easily. This isn’t something you can just erase, his inner voice reminded him. He couldn’t just pretend it was someone else’s dollar to give.
The next day was Sunday. Mark went to church with his family, but he couldn’t focus on a single word of the service. The same woman was there, sitting just a few rows ahead of him. Why is she here? he wondered, his anxiety flaring up. He couldn’t get her out of his mind, couldn’t stop thinking about that dollar.
As the offering plate came around, he almost dropped the dollar in. Maybe that’ll make it right, he thought. But as soon as he let go of the bill, he knew it wasn’t enough. The guilt stayed, gnawing at him. This won’t fix anything. I need to make it right with her.
By the time the service ended, Mark knew he had to do something more. I can’t keep this hanging over me. The dollar wasn’t his to give away or throw out. It belonged to the woman, and she deserved to have it back.
So, later that afternoon, Mark wrote a short note, enclosing the dollar in an envelope. He didn’t sign it. He couldn’t bring himself to. He simply wrote: “This dollar is yours. I took it by mistake and couldn’t rest until I returned it.”
Slipping it into a mailbox addressed to her, Mark felt a strange mix of relief and lingering guilt. At least I’ve done something, he thought. The act didn’t erase what he’d done, but at least he had made some kind of restitution.
Days, weeks, even months later, the memory of that dollar would still haunt him. It was a small mistake, but it left a lasting mark. How close did I come to losing my integrity for a single dollar? he often asked himself.
It was a lesson he wouldn’t forget—a reminder that even the smallest dishonesty can weigh heavy on the conscience.
You may enjoy reading An Angel in Disguise also written by T.S. Arthur