"Are they French?" asked Mrs.—, without pausing in her employment of rolling up some goods, to take and examine the articles proffered her.
"No, ma'am; they are some of my own and sister's work."
"They won't do, then, Miss. Nothing in the way of fine collars and capes will sell, unless they are French."
Mary felt chilled at heart as Mrs.—said this, and commenced slowly rolling up her capes, faint with disappointment. As she was about turning from the counter, Mrs.—said, in rather an indifferent tone,
"Suppose you let me look at them."
"I am sure you will think them very beautiful," Mary replied, quickly unrolling her little bundle. "They have been wrought with great care."'
"Sure enough, they are quite well done," Mrs.—said, coldly, as she glanced her eyes over the capes. "Almost equal in appearance to the French. But they are only domestic; and domestic embroidered work won't bring scarcely anything. What do you ask for these?"
"We have set no price upon them; but think that they are richly worth five or six dollars apiece."
"Five or six dollars!" ejaculated Mrs.—, in well feigned surprise, handing back; suddenly, the capes. "O! no, Miss;—American goods don't bring arty such prices."
"Then what will you give for them, Madam?"