“Please, please,” she pleaded breathlessly to the girl at the desk, “phone Sweirs for me. Here I’ll find the number.”
Her fingers flew-P-Q-R-S-Sa-Se-Sw—Sweirs—She could hear the girls now coming down the hall as she gave the number.
“Please ask if they have any ice skates to fit a size five boot.”
The girl was so impressed by Mimi’s excitement, it never occurred to her she did not have permission to telephone. But Mimi knew she did not have; that was why she was having the girl call for her. Hurry! Hurry! How long did it take Sweirs to answer? They must be terribly busy—probably selling all their skates.
“Sweirs are sorry. They have no ice skates.”
Mimi groaned.
“Then we’ll call the hardware stores.” She was fumbling through the directory again.
“Look in the classified section in the back,” the girl suggested.
H-Hardware. There. She had another number.
“Yes, size five please,” the girl was saying. “Just a moment.”