“That's all right, then. And now, mother, as it's past eleven o'clock, I think we may as well both go to bed.”
The next day Paul went as usual to his business, and Mrs. Hoffman, after clearing away the breakfast, put on her bonnet and shawl, and prepared to go for the materials for the shirts.
The retail store of Barclay & Co. is of great size, and ranks among the most important in New York. It was not so well filled when Mrs. Hoffman entered as it would be later. She was directed to the proper counter, where she presented the order, signed by Mr. Preston. As he was a customer of long standing, there was no difficulty about filling the order. A bundle was made up, which, as it contained the materials for twelve shirts, necessarily was of considerable size.
“Here is your bundle, ma'am,” said the clerk.
Mrs. Hoffman's strength was slender, and she did not feel able to carry the heavy bundle offered her. Even if she took the car, she would be obliged to carry it a portion of the way, and she felt that it would overtask her strength.
“Don't you send bundles?” she asked.
“Sometimes,” said the clerk, looking superciliously at the modest attire of the poor widow, and mentally deciding that she was not entitled to much consideration. Had she been richly dressed, he would have been very obsequious, and insisted on sending home the smallest parcel. But there are many who have two rules of conduct, one for the rich, and quite a different one for the poor, and among these was the clerk who was attending upon Mrs. Hoffman.
“Then,” said Mrs. Hoffman, “I should like to have you send this.”
“It's a great deal of trouble to send everything,” said the clerk, impertinently.
“This bundle is too heavy for me to carry,” said the widow, deprecatingly.