The woman's words stick in my mind, conjuring up images of contrasts, not unlike multihued autumn leaves.

When I asked the woman whether she doesn't worry someone will steal the money from the produce stand's "honor" box, she replied, "If they do, they'll lose a lot more than we will."

My husband and I visit that Mennonite farm stand whenever we are in the area, and this was the first time we encountered any member of the family.

Usually we choose our freshly-picked fruits and veggies, put the money in the box and leave, always worrying a thief will grab the funds before the family has a chance to empty the box.

On this particular visit the mother, with her baby son harnessed to her chest, was filling the bins with tomatoes and cucumbers.

When I expressed concern about putting my money into the wooden box and heard her response, I asked what she meant.

"If they steal it, they'll have to live with their conscience," she explained.

"If they even have one," I said.

She just looked at me.

I guess that concept was alien to her. Certainly everyone has a conscience, she seemed to imply, but I'm not so sure.

Of course, the woman lives on a farm in a rural area, so perhaps she is not exposed to the kinds of people we encounter in the city.

I was reminded of that trusting woman after an exchange with the landlady who owns an apartment building next door to our home.

Over the decades her tenants frequently have been problems. The current batch is the worst yet.

When we called the landlady to come and look at damage someone on her property had caused to the entire 100-foot length of a common fence I had paid for entirely because she refused to contribute a dime toward replacing the broken chicken wire divider, she glanced at the evidence and shrugged.

"They say they didn't do it," she announced to us and the contractor, before turning heel and walking away.

My husband and I paid the contractor to fix the fence, and the landlady has yet to chip in, even though 100 percent of the destruction was inflicted from her side.

Does this woman have a conscience? I'm not convinced.

Contrast that behavior with an incident involving my late husband. When the parking brake on his pickup truck failed, the truck drifted into a parked car.

Somehow he located the car's owner in the shopping center and told her to send him a bill.

She seemed to be in no hurry.

I recall he had to persist, calling the woman several times, before she finally gave him a body shop's estimate and accepted our check.

Knowing his negligence had resulted in damage to someone's property bothered his conscience, and he wanted to make amends.

On the other hand, when someone damaged my car recently, he or she vanished before I appeared and noticed the scratches.

The repair bill was all mine.

Most people like to say they are honest and would do the right thing.

Yet almost weekly we read about employees in positions of trust who get caught pilfering thousands or even hundreds of thousands of dollars from the organizations that trust them.

Why?

Honesty is not a trait to display only when someone is watching. It's what we choose to do, or not do, when nobody is around.

Probably at some time or another most of us have been victims of someone's dishonesty.

It is hoped most of us have not been perpetrators, as well.

Perhaps if folks realized how their dishonest actions affect average people like themselves, they would be more inclined to heed their consciences and do right.

The next time temptation tries to lead you astray, remember that farm woman's words.

If you choose not to take the high road, you, ultimately, will be the biggest loser.