"Caps? Oh, yes, this way," and away they went, down aisles, up in elevators, and into the department where nothing but headgear showed itself.
This time, knowing there were to be three boys provided for with suits, Ben picked out the same number of good, strong caps, the salesman all through the process plainly showing his disgust and disappointment at what he thought was to be a fine purchase, turning out to be such a poor trade. But Ben knew nothing of what was going on in the other one's mind, and would have cared still less, had he known, all his attention being absorbed in the bargain he was making for Madam Van Ruypen. At last the business was concluded.
"Do you keep gloves?" he asked, as they turned away.
"Yes," said the salesman, sullenly, and slapping the three cloth caps together disdainfully.
"Mittens?" asked Ben.
"No, indeed," said Mr. Perkins, emphatically. "Mittens, the very idea!" then he winked at a young man, who looked as if a wrinkle, by any chance, never existed in his clothes, and whose hair was evidently just fresh from the barber's. "We don't keep anything but first-class goods."
The other young man made no attempt to conceal his broad smile. And by this time Ben had considerable attention down the long store. He couldn't help but see it, and he held his head high, and his blue eyes flashed.
"Well, give me the money—" Mr. Perkins held out his hand, the one with the big ring on.
"I don't pay for them," said Ben.
"Well, I guess you do, young man," declared Mr. Perkins, in a high key, designed to impress the onlookers. "You've bought these caps," and he gave them another disdainful slap together, "and you'll pay for them, and now, right sharp off!" he added in a very unpleasant way.