Nan forgot her friends—and the flight of time. It was not alone the pretty things displayed that interested her, but the wonderfully dressed women who paraded through the aisles of the store.
She found herself beside a beautifully dressed woman, in a loose, full-flowing fur garment, with fur hat to match, who, it seemed to Nan, was quite the most fashionable person she had ever beheld. The woman had a touch of rouge upon her otherwise pale cheeks; her eyebrows were suspiciously penciled; her lips were slightly ruddy. Nevertheless, she was very demure and very much the lady in appearance.
She was idly turning over lavalliéres on a tray—holding them up for inspection, and letting the pretty chains run through her fingers to drop into the tray again, like sparkling water.
"I don't think I care for any of these, don't you know?" she drawled, but very pleasantly. "I'm sorry—really."
She turned away from the counter. Nan was close by and had been secretly watching the pretty woman more than she had the lavalliéres. The clerk—rather an attractive girl with curly, black hair and very pink cheeks; quite an excitable young thing—suddenly leaned over the counter and whispered:
"Oh, madam! Pray! The special lavalliére I showed you is not here."
"What do you say, child?" demanded the woman, haughtily. "Do you miss anything?"
"The special lavalliére I showed you, madam," gasped the girl. "Forgive me—do! But I am responsible for all I take out of the case!"
"It is a mistake," said the woman, coldly. "I haven't the thing—surely."
"It is not here!" wailed the clerk, still in a low key, but fingering madly among the chains upon the tray. "Oh, ma'am! it will cost me twenty dollars!"