“Pardon me, Miss,” begged the floor-walker—for that was who Mr. Knockem was, and right scared he was, too, for Mrs. Bountiful was one of their best customers. “I didn’t mean any harm. Can I be of assistance to you?”
“Why, sir,” said Tiny, drying her eyes, “it’s all right—I shouldn’t have touched anything, I know, but—I’m trying to select a present for Mrs. Bountiful’s birthday. It comes Saturday, you see——”
“Oh, that’s it, that’s it, is it?” asked a new voice. It was so kind, and full of joy that Tiny knew she’d like its owner before she looked up at the kindly, bald-headed gentleman who had joined them.
“Leave the little miss to me, Mr. Knockem,” he said.
“Oh, certainly, Mr. Storem; certainly, sir,” said the floor-walker.
“Well, my dear,” said the stout gentleman, “I believe I can help you. I know Mrs. Bountiful quite well. The other day she was in the store inquiring for vanity hand-bags.”
“The kind all filled with golden powder boxes, and mirrors, and coin holders?” asked Tiny eagerly.
“Yes,” smiled Mr. Storem, “and here they are at this counter. Miss Prettyman, will you show those bags to Miss——”
“My name is Tiny, sir,” said the little girl, much pleased with the lady, who brought several bags for her to see.
“How much is this?” she asked, selecting a charming violet one, lined with dainty flowered silk.