Running in this wise, her thoughts at last fixed themselves upon a paragraph which she had perused several times without comprehending. Now it began to have a meaning for her, and one so intense that she half rose to beg the loan of the newspaper that she might show it to Hallam.
"The very thing. The very thing I heard those doctors talking about in mother's room. I'll ask for it, or copy it, if I can, and show my boy. Who knows what it might do?"
There was a little movement in the office. The gentleman in the big top-coat, with his eyeglasses, his gold-handled umbrella, and his consequential air, was leaving. He was bowing in a patronizing sort of way, and Mr. Metcalf was bowing also, smiling almost obsequious. He was rubbing his hair upward from his forehead, in a way Amy had already observed to be habitual when he was pleased. Evidently he was pleased now, and greatly so, for even after the stranger had passed out and entered the cab in waiting, the superintendent remained before the glass door, still smiling with profound satisfaction.
Then, as if he had suddenly remembered her, he turned toward Amy.
"Well, miss, what can I do for you to-day? I saw you were interested in our argument over the fraction of a cent, and I'm glad to tell you I won. Yes, I carried my point."
The girl was disgusted. Though she liked to know her friends from every side of their characters, she was not pleased by this glimpse of Mr. Metcalf's.
He saw her feeling in her face and took it merrily, dropping at last into the manner which she knew and liked best.
"A small business, you're thinking, eh? Well, Miss Amy, let me tell you that on this one deal, this one sale, my gaining that fraction of a cent means the gaining to my employer of several thousand dollars. And that is worth contesting, don't you think?"
"It doesn't seem possible. Just that tiny eighth! Why, how many, many yards you must sell!"