king places in spite of
their smallness and close setting. At last, right in the middle of a
row of these, he saw a large window set in place of the two usual
smaller ones, a window filled with unmistakable feminine stuff, and
the sign, small, neatly gilt lettered: Miss Tolman's Ladies' Shop.
Hemstitching Done.

There wasn't a soul going in or out, so he braved it, and was happier
still when he found himself the sole customer. The opening of the door
made a bell tinkle in a back room.

A girl came through parted green wool curtains, a girl so
flaxen-haired, with such blue eyes--like a friendly kitten--that
Wesley Dean almost forgot the errand that had brought him so far.

As for the girl, she was surprised to see a man, and particularly a
young country man, among the gloves and stockings, cheap pink
underthings, and embroideries of Miss Tolman's shop.

"You got any--any aprons?" he stammered.

"White aprons or gingham?" The girl's smile helped Wesley a great
deal. A very nice girl, he decided; but she made him feel queer,
light-headed.

"I'm not sure, ma'am. When I come away from home this morning I asked
Aunt Dolcey did she need anything, and she said 'yes, a couple of
aprons,' but she didn't say what kind."

The girl thought it over. "I reckon maybe if she's your auntie she'd
want white aprons."

Her mistake gave him a chance for the conversation which he felt a
most surprising wish to make.

"No'm, she's not my auntie. She's the old coloured woman keeps house
for me."

Oh, she was a very nice girl; something about the way she held her
head made Wesley think of his spunky little riding mare, Teeny.

"H'm. Then I think you'd be safe to get a gingham; anyway, a gingham
apron comes in handy to anybody working round a kitchen. We got some
nice big ones."

"Aunt Dolcey's not so awful big; not any bigger'n you, but heavier
set, like."

There is a distinct advance in friendly intimacy when one has one's
size considered in relation to a customer's needs, particularly when
the consideration shows how little a man knows about women's garments.
The girl reached beneath the counter and brought up an armful of
blue-and-white-checked aprons. She unfolded them deftly, and Wesley
saw that she had small strong hands and round wrists.

"These got bibs and nice long strings, cover you all up while you're
cooking. They're a dollar."

His gaze, intent on her rather than the aprons, brought her eyes to
his.

"Good-l