wearing our No. 13E1269, etc., of course). Inside
were displayed the complete baby outfits, with a smiling mother, and a
chubby, crowing baby as a central picture, and each piece of each outfit
separately pictured. Just below this, the outfit number and price, and a
list of the pieces that went to make it up. From the emergency outfit at
$3.98 to the outfit de luxe (for Haynes-Cooper patrons) at $28.50, each
group was comprehensive, practical, complete. In the back of the book
was a personal service plea. "Use us," it said. "We are here to assist
you, not only in the matter of merchandise, but with information and
advice. Mothers in particular are in need of such service. This book
will save you weariness and worry. Use us."

Fanny surveyed the book with pardonable pride. But she was not
satisfied. "We lack style," she said. "The practical garments are all
right. But what we need is a little snap. That means cut and line. And
I'm going to New York to get it." That had always been Slosson's work.

She and Ella Monahan were to go to the eastern markets together. Ella
Monahan went to New York regularly every three weeks. Fanny had never
been east of Chicago. She envied Ella her knowledge of the New York
wholesalers and manufacturers. Ella had dropped into Fanny's office for
a brief moment. The two women had little in common, except their work,
but they got on very well, and each found the other educating.

"Seems to me you're putting an awful lot into this," observed Ella
Monahan, her wise eyes on Fanny's rather tense face.

"You've got to," replied Fanny, "to get anything out of it."

"I guess you're right," Ella agreed, and laughed a rueful little laugh.
"I know I've given 'em everything I've got--and a few things I didn't
know I had. It's a queer game--life. Now if my old father hadn't run a
tannery in Racine, and if I hadn't run around there all the day, so that
I got so the smell and feel of leather and hides were part of me, why,
I'd never be buyer of gloves at Haynes-Cooper. And you----"

"Brandeis' Bazaar." And was going on, when her office boy came in with a
name. Ella rose to go, but Fanny stopped her. "Father Fitzpatrick! Bring
him right in! Miss Monahan, you've got to meet him. He's"--then, as the
great frame of the handsome old priest filled the doorway--"he's just
Father Fitzpatrick. Ella Monahan."

The white-haired Irishman, and the white-haired Irish woman clasped
hands.

"And who are you, daughter