"There goes Miss Thank-you-I-beg-your-pardon," said the young lady who
had wondered if 2884 were a spy. "She's got a smile as if she was
invited to tea with the Vanderbilts."
"By this time next week I bet she smiles the wrong side of her mouth
if she puts on any airs with Dora Stein."
"Hum-m, yeh. Unless what you think's so, and she's on the right side
o' Father."
It was true, as the girls had warned the new hand, when six
o'clock--closing time--came, you "couldn't chase the dames out." The
salespeople began to put things away, and some even ventured to remind
customers that the shop shut at six; but ladies who believed
themselves possessed of the kindest hearts on earth pleaded that they
must have _one_ more thing, only _just_ one, to complete their list
for that day. Those who were too cross and tired to think about hearts
or anything else except their own nerves, made no excuses at all, but
demanded what they wanted or threatened a report to the floorwalker if
a saleswoman were "disagreeable."
"Look at them!" snapped Miss Stein, maddened by a consignment of more
blouses from the bankrupt sale (which had brought upon Horrocks the
gibes of the head buyer), blouses without sashes, which not even
Poiret could have turned into "Pavlovas.
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