"Why, why!" the old man stammered. "Your purse has gone? Where could it have gone to?"
Just then some one grabbed my arm, and a voice said in my ear:—
"Not so slick as that, young feller!"
A man who looked like an official of the store had hold of me.
"Don't make any fuss, and hand over that lady's purse," he added in a low voice.
"I haven't got her purse. I was just going to give her this handkerchief, which I saw her drop," I protested, holding up the silly thing I had picked from the floor.
"That's all right," the man said with a grin. "And now hand over the purse, too."
He began to feel my pockets, and, of course, I resented his familiarity, and, like a country jake, kicked up a muss then and there. A crowd began to collect. The floor-manager rushed up at this point, and between them I was hustled across the store and into one of the private offices. The first thing I heard when I got there was the old gentleman just behind me, stuttering, too much excited to talk plain.
"Yes, yes, my daughter's purse! She just lost it!"
"That's all right," I said. "And I saw the fellow who took it...."