"I'm fairly good at stemming crowds,—I think I'll go up."
Farnsworth squared his broad shoulders and started up the stairway.
By tactful manoeuvring, rather than by muscular strength, he gained his goal, and stood in the doorway of Patty's boudoir.
She was showing off a boudoir set to a prospective purchaser. It was of pale blue brocaded satin, edged with swansdown. There was a fetching lace cap with blue bows and little yellow rosebuds; also dainty blue slippers with rosebuds on them. Gaily, Patty donned the lovely garments, over her fluffy white frock, and pirouetted before her own cheval glass.
"You see," she said, in wheedling, saleslady tones, "it is a work of art! Ma foi! but it is chic! n'est-ce pas? Excuse my fearful French, but I can't sell this Parisian rig in English!"
"It is just darling!" declared the lady who was looking at it. "Of course I'll take it. I never saw one I liked so well."
Farnsworth stood watching the scene, thinking how much Patty's winning personality added to the charm of the robe, and wondering if she would accept the books he had bought for her.
The sale concluded, Patty thanked her patron, and in a moment was called upon to repeat the performance, as indeed she had been doing most of the evening. This time it was not so willing a buyer.
A gaunt, elderly spinster, with elaborately coiffed white hair and ostentatious costume, demanded a kimono that should be just her style and of embroidered crêpe de chine.
"Here is a lovely one in heliotrope," said Patty, smiling as she brought one of the prettiest ones she had.