“Perhaps,” said he, “you have been a little hard.”
“Pooh,” returned the tailor; “I know my customer; and to-morrow my account will be settled, and I know very well where the money will come from. Then she will give me another order, and we shall have the whole comedy over again. I know what I am about.” And taking Mascarin into the window, he made some confidential communication, at which they both laughed heartily.
Paul, not wishing to appear to listen, examined the consulting-room, as Van Klopen termed it. He saw a great number of large scissors, yard measures, and patterns of material, and heaps of fashion plates.
By this time the two men had finished their conversation.
“I had,” said Mascarin, as they returned to the fireplace, “I had meant to glance through the books; but you have so many customers waiting, that I had better defer doing so.”
“Is that all that hinders you?” returned Van Klopen, carelessly. “Wait a moment.”
He left the room, and in another moment his voice was heard.
“I am sorry, ladies, very sorry, on my word; but I am busy with my silk mercer. I shall not be very long.”
“We will wait,” returned the ladies in chorus.
“That is the way,” remarked Van Klopen, as he returned to the consulting-room. “Be civil to women, and they turn their backs on you; try and keep them off, and they run after you. If I was to put up ‘no admittance’ over my door, the street would be blocked up with women. Business has never been better,” continued the tailor, producing a large ledger. “Within the last ten days we have had in orders amounting to eighty-seven thousand francs.”