“Then I helped the salesladies. But business was slack, and people went right by our door, and I jumped out one day and started to pull ’em in. And I was better at it——
“Good-day, ma’am! Will you look at a beautiful skirt—just the very latest style—we’ve only got a few of them for samples?” She broke off and left Helen to stand wondering while Sadie chaffered with another woman, who had hesitated a trifle as she passed the shop.
“Oh, no, ma’am! You was no greenie. I could tell that at once. That’s why I spoke English to you yet,” Sadie said, flattering the prospective buyer, and smiling at her pleasantly. “If you will just step in and see these skirts—or a two-piece suit if you will?”
Helen observed her new friend with amazement. Although she knew Sadie could be no older than herself, she used the tact of long business experience in handling the woman. And she got her into the store, too!
“I wash my hands of ’em when they get inside,” she said, laughing, and coming back to Helen. “If Old Yawcob and his wife and his salesladies can’t hold ’em, it isn’t my fault, you understand. I’m about the youngest puller-in there is along Madison Street—although that little hunchback in front of the millinery shop yonder looks younger.”
“But you don’t try to pull me in,” said Helen, laughing. “And I’ve got ten whole dollars to spend.”
“That’s right. But then, you see, you’re my friend, Miss,” said Sadie. “I want to be sure you get your money’s worth. So I’m going with you when you buy your dress—that is, if you’ll let me.”
“Let you? Why, I’d dearly love to have you advise me,” declared the Western girl. “And don’t—don’t—call me ‘Miss.’ I’m Helen Morrell, I tell you.”
“All right. If you say so. But, you know, you are from Madison Avenyer just the same.”
“No. I’m from a great big ranch out West.”