"Well, will you mind telephoning to him and saying——"
"We don't have the telephone here," she replied, with cold triumph, remembering Henry's phrase, "those New Yorkers."
"Well, can you send to a garage and get a van or something for me?"
"I couldn't unless I went myself."
"Well, where is the nearest garage?"
"I'm sure I couldn't tell you."
Using words in a sense in which Violet had never heard them used, Mr. Bauersch dashed out of the shop to speak to his taxi-driver. He returned in ten minutes. In the meantime Violet had hammered the lids on the two cases. In possession of both the money and the books she had maintained all her tranquillity. Mr. Bauersch had come back with a Ford van in addition to his taxi. He led the driver of the taxi and the driver of the van into the office, and instructed them to remove the cases.
"The receipt, if you please," he said dryly to Violet, who handed him the receipt, but showed none of the clemency due from a conqueror to the defeated.
Mr. Bauersch moralized (to himself) about English methods.
"Why do they hate the sight of a customer?" he asked himself, puzzled. "I'll never come into this damned store again!" he said to himself.