Miss Frink’s bright gaze fixed on the clerk. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere else?” she demanded.
“Yes, Madam,” returned the girl. “I am in the glove section, but Miss Aubrey has gone out to lunch, so I’m over here.”
“Do you know anything about the stock?”
Millicent colored under this abruptness, but she smiled.
“Not very much, but I can show you what we have.”
Miss Frink liked her tone and manner.
“Human intelligence, eh?—Do you know who I am?” with sudden consideration that perhaps this sweetness was for the occasion.
“Yes, indeed, Miss Frink. We all know you. I have fitted you to gloves.”
The lady of the old school still regarded the blonde head with its simple twist of hair carried back from a low broad forehead. “I was sure I had seen you. Are you always patient with people that snap you up?”