The clerk laughed. “You see what you’re in for, young man,” she said, with the familiarity which rather too often characterizes clerks in our semi-rural regions.
I fear I coloured more than Miss Goodwin, which didn’t help matters any.
“Please show us something at a reasonable cost,” the girl said, with a curious, dignified severity, which was effective.
“That will do, won’t it, Mr. Upton?” she presently asked, with pointed emphasis on the formal address, as a pretty set of dishes with a simple pattern on the edge was displayed for $25.
“Admirably,” said I. “But I wanted the crimson and gold ones.”
“Now for the kitchen things,” said she, with her old smile again.
Here we made use of Mrs. Bert’s list, and left our order to be filled. As we stepped out on the street, we looked at each other, and laughed.
“It’s preposterous, but I suppose the evidence is against us,” she twinkled.
“The evidence is against us, at any rate,” I answered.
She looked away quickly, and said, “Where is the furniture store?”