The owner of the store half-rose from his chair, then threw himself back with an exclamation of disgust. He again ejaculated the words with which he had greeted his son's unexpected kisses, but now there was a vast difference in the intonation.
“God bless my soul!” he cried. From his expression, it was clear that a pious aspiration was farthest from his thought. On the contrary! Again, he fell silent, considering the situation which Smithson had presented, and, as he reflected, his frown betrayed the emotion natural enough under the circumstances. At last, however, he mastered his irritation to some degree, and spoke his command briefly. “Well, Smithson, apologize to her. It can't be helped.” Then his face lighted with a sardonic amusement. “And, Smithson,” he went on with a sort of elephantine playfulness, “I shall take it as a personal favor if you will tactfully advise the lady that the goods at Altman and Stern's are really even finer than ours.”
When Smithson had left the office, Gilder turned to his secretary.
“Take this,” he directed, and he forthwith dictated the following letter to the husband of the lady who was not a thief, as Smithson had so painstakingly pointed out:
“J. W. GASKELL, ESQ.,
“Central National Bank, New York.
“MY DEAR Mr. GASKELL: I feel that I should be doing less than my duty as a man if I did not let you know at once that Mrs. Gaskell is in urgent need of medical attention. She came into our store to-day, and——”
He paused for a moment. “No, put it this way,” he said finally:
“We found her wandering about our store to-day in a very nervous condition. In her excitement, she carried away about one hundred dollars' worth of rare laces. Not recognizing her, our store detective detained her for a short time. Fortunately for us all, Mrs. Gaskell was able to explain who she was, and she has just gone to her home. Hoping for Mrs. Gaskell's speedy recovery, and with all good wishes, I am,
“Yours very truly.”