pounced down upon
me. "Please to step this way." To my astonishment he marched me to
the extreme end of the shop, thence through an opening in the side
wall, past another long double row of dames and damsels of all sorts
and sizes making purchases, and finally referred me to a young lady
whose special function in life seemed to consist in selling pins to
adventurous young gentlemen like myself. She was an extremely good
looking young lady too, and I felt considerably embarrassed at the
insignificance of my purchase. "And the next thing, please?" she
asked, during the wrapping-up process. I informed her, as politely
as I could, that I did not require anything more.

"Gloves, handkerchiefs, collars, shirts, neckties--?"

"No thank you," I returned, "I only came in for the pins." But I was
not to be let off so easily.

Utterly ignoring the humble penny that I had laid down on the
counter, she showed me samples of almost everything in the shop
suitable for male wear. Blushing to the roots of my hair, I implored
her to spare herself further trouble, as my wardrobe was already
extensive. Then she showed me a sample silk umbrella. I was unwilling
to rush away abruptly from the presence of such a charming young
lady, but she provoked me to it; indeed, I was only prevented from
carrying out my design by my failure to discern the hole in the wall
through which I had been inveigled into that department. "If you
would be so good as to give me my change," I stammered out, feeling
heartily ashamed at the thought of wanting the change at all.
"Certainly sir." Then she proceeded to make out the bill. "Oh, never
mind about the bill," I said, "I'm rather in a hurry." Of this appeal
she took no notice. "Sign, please," she said to the young lady at her
elbow. "Pins, one farthing," she added to my utter confusion. The
second young lady made a wild flourish over the bill with her pencil
and turned away. My fair tormentor slowly wrapped my penny in the
bill, screwed up the whole inside a large wooden ball, jerked a
dangling cord at her elbow, then stood looking me straight in the
face as the ball went rolling along a set of tramway lines over our
heads to the other end of the shop. That was the most melancholy game
at skittles I ever took part in. It seemed an age before the ball
came back to us, whereupon the young lady took out the bill and my
change--a halfpenny. "We haven't a farthing in the place," she said
innocently, "What else wi