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Updated: July 11, 2025
Now mayn't I begin right away to invite 'em so they'll KNOW what's coming to 'em?" And Mrs. Carew, who would not have believed such a thing possible, heard herself murmuring a faint "yes," which, she knew, bound her to the giving of a Christmas-tree party on New Year's Eve to a dozen children from Murphy's Alley and a young salesgirl whose name she did not know. Perhaps in Mrs.
The poorly dressed salesgirl behind the counter smiled down at him in a manner which successive ten o'clock sessions had failed to eradicate. "What kind?" she asked. His gaze wandered helplessly over the bewildering array of volumes. "Here's something everyone's reading," she suggested, holding up an inane, pretty-girl covered book.
The blush was intellectual in origin. He knew in a moment that he stood in the ranks of the ready-made youths who wooed the giggling girls at other counters. Himself leaned against the oaken trysting place of a cockney Cupid with a desire in his heart for the favor of a glove salesgirl. He was no more than Bill and Jack and Mickey.
But, then, she reflected, there was that pile of stuff. There was no use in concealing her ownership of the ring. "Yes," she murmured. "One moment, please," answered the man brusquely. "I must send down for the salesgirl who waited on you to identify you and your check a mere formality, you know, but necessary to keep things straight." Constance sat down.
"They are handsome for the price. Sawdust bodies, to be sure; but what fine heads? red cheeks, splendid eyes, and hair that will comb out as well as that of some costlier ones, I'll be bound." "Ninety-seven cents!" repeated Katy, with a sigh. It was an unattainable sum, as far as she was concerned. The salesgirl remarked the sigh. "Say, Cash, why don't you buy it?" she urged.
Every salesgirl must have a plume on her hat rather than a nourishing luncheon. Others must have six motor cars instead of a decent library in their palace. But this longing for useless display is still outdone by the hysterical craving for amusement.
She glanced at her thin dress and shivering form as she said it. "No," said the girl; "for mother; she is poorly and needs it." She chose the gray, and gave the salesgirl her handful of money. The girl gave back the coupon. "They don't go," she said; "give me another, please." "But I haven't got another," said the girl, looking apprehensively at the shawl. "The Mr. Feeney said it was all right.
Such social sores the drayman, back bent to the Christmas box whose mysteries he must never know; the salesgirl standing on her swollen feet on into the midnight hour such sores may run and fester, but not to sicken public eyes. For the Christmas spirit is the white flame of love burning in men's hearts and may not be defiled.
"Well, really, Pollyanna," began Mrs. Carew, in cold disapproval. But the girl behind the counter interrupted with a voice quite as cold, and even more disapproving. "Don't worry, madam. I've no notion of goin'." "Oh, but PLEASE," begged Pollyanna. "You don't know how I want you, and " "I notice the lady ain't doin' any askin'," interrupted the salesgirl, a little maliciously. Mrs.
The salesgirl showed signs of embarrassment as she ventured to lay a detaining hand on Sarah's arm, but she maintained her position, despite the secretary's manner of disapproval. "What on earth do you want?" Sarah inquired, snappishly. The salesgirl put her question at once. "What did they do to Mary Turner?"
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