“The best is none too good for me,” asserted the customer sharply. She was a young woman with bobbed black hair very much becurled, a mouth so painted it gave one the impression that she had been eating poke berries, cheeks to match not only lips but a string of red, red beads twisted several times around her throat and hanging to her waist. In her hand she carried a bright red swagger stick. Her hat—a red tam—was worn far on one side. Brows and lashes were blackened to match the blue-black hair.
“Sure!” said Min demurely. “The best is none too good but it may be too costly,” she muttered under her breath.
“Never mind the cost—that is my affair. Ah, this is very sweet,” she said, pulling out a bunch of the costly lace and spreading it out on the counter. “But show me other widths and patterns. Have you any point d’esprit?”
“No, we have no point d’esprit,” said Min with ill concealed impatience. Her lunch hour had struck and she felt it was hard lines to be forced to show this painted flapper expensive lace that she was sure she had no idea of buying.
“Some duchesse, too,” demanded the determined shopper. “Nothing better than that?”
Poor Min was forced to produce more and better lace. The counter was strewn with boxes of the priceless merchandise. Miss Fauntleroy was ready to go out for luncheon. She paused for a moment to speak to Min. All she said was:
“Is not the store clock slow?”
Min looked up from the lace she was showing the possible purchaser and compared her wrist watch with the large time piece hanging on the opposite wall.
“I guess not,” she said, and resumed her labors.
Miss Fauntleroy proceeded leisurely towards the front door. The much made-up young person who had been so intent on lace, without one word to Min, turned and followed the haughty beauty. The aisles were crowded with shoppers but the bobbed haired, red mouthed flapper kept close behind Miss Fauntleroy.