The store bell was jerked suddenly and violently.
“Oh me, oh my!” groaned Nancy, jumping up so as to smash the ice bag to the floor, cut its string loose and send the remaining chunks of ice flying. “I can’t go. Ruth, will you—”
“Love to,” chanted Ruth, starting off promptly.
“Look at the puddle,” bewailed Isabel, but Nancy interrupted her.
“No one, simply no one can come in to-day. Do run out, Belle and restrain Ruth. Just listen to her sweetest tones—”
Isabel went. She liked to “'tend store” and each possible customer represented to her, as well as to Ruth, a possible adventure.
“No, I’m not the proprietor,” Nancy heard Ruth saying.
“No, she really can’t see you,” was Isabel’s contribution.
A man’s voice, full, rich, persuasive, was speaking in so low a tone that his words did not convey meaning to the listening Nancy.
She listened! She crept nearer, and finally realizing that both Ruth and Isabel were not being able to dismiss the stranger, she attempted to right her rumpled self, to pat the unruly hair into place, and not knowing that her forehead looked like a beefsteak from the ice freeze, she sauntered out into the store.