“Women-folks,” said the Boot & Shoe Surgeon tersely.
Upon that pronouncement Marcia Ames pondered. There seemed to be a gleam in it. The more she thought, the more the gleam expanded. It became a ray of light.
“The women!” she said. “Of course they do. Who ever saw a man in a department store?”
“Well, I would n’t go thet far,” returned the Surgeon. “I reckon they’s a few. But they don’t wear out much sole leather there. And if any one was to say to The Big Shop or The Northwestern, or Ellison Brothers or any of them big advertisers, ‘We’ll take the women-folks away, but you can keep the men,’ thet store would about close its doors next week.”
Marcia Ames rose out of her deep chair. There was a glow on her face. “Eli Wade,” she said, “you are a great man!”
“No, ma’am,” disclaimed the other. “Jest a handy man with leather.”
“Well, you are a dear! And that is better. I believe—I do believe—you have shown the way. If only there is time! I am going to take your big idea to high legal talent for consultation.”
“Hain’t had any big idea sence”—his old, keen eyes twinkled—“sence the State Capitol flew the German flag in honor of the Surrender Bill. But who’s your legal talent?”
“Judge Selden Dana.”
“You’re the wonder, Miss Marcia. How’d you know you could trust him? He ain’t always been reckoned trustable.”