“Why, colors,” said the saleslady, giggling openly.
“Green,” said Jethro, with considerable emphasis.
The saleslady clapped her hand over her mouth and led the way to another model.
“You don't call that green—do you? That's not green enough.”
They inspected another dress, and then another and another,—not all of them were green,—Jethro expressing very decided if not expert views on each of them. At last he paused before two models at the far end of the room, passing his hand repeatedly over each as he had done so often with the cattle of Coniston.
“These two pieces same kind of goods?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
“Er-this one is a little shinier than that one?”
“Perhaps the finish is a little higher,” ventured the saleslady.
“Sh-shinier,” said Jethro.