"We want to see some blue taffeta—not awfully expensive."
"Step this way. We have something exquisite—five dollars a yard."
"Oh, haven't you anything less than that?" stammered Nancy in dismay. Alma glanced at her reprovingly.
"For heaven's sake, don't sound as if you hadn't a dollar to your name, or she'll just right-about-face and walk off," she whispered. "We'll look at the expensive silk, and then work around to the cheaper—explain that it's more what we want, and so on."
"Yes, and the cheaper silk will look so impossible after we've seen the other that we'll be taking it," returned Nancy. "I know their wiles."
"Here is a beautiful material—quite new," lured the saleswoman. "A wonderful shade. It will be impossible to duplicate. See how it falls—as softly and gracefully as satin, but with more body to it. The other is much stiffer."
"How—how much is it?" asked Nancy feebly.
"Five-ninety-eight. It's special, of course. Later on the regular price will be six-fifty."
"Isn't it lovely?" breathed Alma, touching the gleaming stuff with careful fingers.
"Have—have you anything for about three dollars a yard?" asked Nancy, wishing that Alma would do the haggling sometimes.