as to what to do.

"You meet me on Saturday," said Lucy to Emily, "and we will do Main
Street together."

She met Lucy on Saturday. Lucy had a list of places.

"You--you're chairman," said Emmy Lou, "you ask----"

It was at the door of the first place on the list, a large, open
doorway, and it and the sidewalk were blocked with boxes and hogsheads
and men rolling things into drays.

Lucy and Emmy Lou went in; they went on going in, back through a lane
between sacks and things stacked high; it was dark and cellar-like, and
smelled of sugar and molasses. At last they reached a glass door, which
was open. Emmy Lou stopped and held back, so did Lucy.

"You--you're chairman--" said Emmy Lou. It was mean, she felt it was
mean, she never felt meaner.

Lucy went forward; she was pretty, her cheeks were bright and her hair
waved up curly despite its braiding. She was blushing.

A lot of men were at desks, dozens of men it seemed at first, though
really there were four, three standing, one in his shirt sleeves. They
looked up.

The fourth man was in a revolving chair; he was in shirt sleeves, too,
and had a cigar in his mouth; his face was red, and his hat was on the
back of his head.

"Well?" said the man, revolving just enough to see them. He looked
cross.

Lucy explained. Her cheeks were very red now.

At first the man was testy, he did not seem to understand.

Lucy's cheeks were redder, so Emmy Lou came forward, thinking she might
make it plainer. She was blushing, too. They both explained; they both
gazed at the man eagerly while they explained; they both looked pretty,
but then they did not know that.

The man wheeled round a little more and listened. Then he got up. He
pushed his hat back and scratched his head and nodded as he surveyed
them. Then he put a hand in pocket and pursed his lips as he looked down
on them.

"And what am I to get, if I give you the advertisement?" asked the man.
He was smiling jocosely, and here he pinched Lucy's cheek playfully
between a thumb and forefinger.

Emmy Lou had kept her wits. She carried much paraphernalia under her
arm. Miss Kilrain had posted them thoroughly as to their business.

"And what, then, do I get?" repeated the man.

Emmy Lou was producing a paper. "A receipt," said Emmy Lou.

The man shouted. So did the other men.

Emmy Lou and Lucy were bewildered.

"It's worth the price," said the man. He promised them the
advertisement, and walked back thro