“You got to humor some folks,” explained Mr. Shull, with a note of regret in his voice. “These big bugs with plenty o’ money always have to be waited on. It ain’t right, but it has to be. Besides, you can always slide on an extra quarter or so when you send in the bill. That sort o’ evens the thing up. Now, in her case, for instance, where we’d charge ordinary folks a dollar for two daguerreotypes, we can send her in a bill for—”
Neither Mr. Shull nor the boy had heard Mar-sena’s descending steps on the staircase, yet at this moment he entered the little work-room and walked across it to the bay window, where the printing was done. There was an unusual degree of abstraction in his face and mien—unusual even for him—and he drummed absent-mindedly on the panes as he stood looking out at the street or the sky, or ‘whatever it was his listless gaze beheld.
“How much do you think it ’ud be safe to stick Miss Parmalee apiece for them daguerreotypes?” asked Newton Shull of his partner.
Marsena turned and stared for a moment as if he doubted having heard aright. Then he made curt answer: “She is not to be charged anything at all. They were made for her as presents.”
It was the other partner’s turn to stare.
“Well, of course—if you say it’s all right,” he managed to get out, “but I suppose on the frames we can—”
“The frames are presents, too,” said Marsena, with decision.