“Oh, yes. I might lose my job if I wasn’t.” The girl laughed a little.
The wholesomeness of her, with her color coming and going, pleased her customer, but above all the charm of her low-pitched voice attracted Miss Frink.
“Well, let’s get at it, then,” she said. “I want a dressing-gown for a man who is recovering from a severe accident and beginning to sit up.”
Millicent approached a series of hangers, Miss Frink close on her heels.
“What size does he wear?”
“Heaven knows, but he’s built on the quantity plan.”
“Takes a large size, then.”
“That’s the idea.”
“How about this?” Millicent drew out a garment covered with Persian figures.