Apples, Ripe and Rosy, Sir by Mary Catherine Crowley
page 20 of 203 (09%)
page 20 of 203 (09%)
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scattering over the floor in dire confusion.
"Oh!--oh, my!" exclaimed the salesgirl, distressed, as she contemplated the wreck of the architectural display. The disturbance at once brought the floor-walker to the spot. "Stupid!" he muttered, taking poor Cash by the shoulder. "Why don't you look where you're going? If you can't mind what you're about, we have no use for you here; remember that!" "Please do not blame the child," interposed the lady who had unwittingly caused the trouble. "It was my fault: I carelessly got in her way. I am very sorry." "Don't mention it, Mrs. M----. It is not of the slightest consequence," said the floor-walker, with a bland smile and a bow. (Mrs. M---- was a desirable customer, and he would have said the same thing if she had happened to tip the show-case over.) "We have to keep our employees up to the mark, you know," he added in a low tone, by way of apology for his brusqueness. "The best of them become careless. But Cash has found a friend this time, so we'll let it pass." Cash, who was busily picking up the boxes, made a little grimace to herself at his change of manner. The lady politely inclined her head by way of acknowledgment, and the floor-walker left abruptly, having suddenly discovered that something required his immediate attention in another part of the store. When he had disappeared, the little girl looked up and faltered gratefully: "Thank you, ma'am!" |
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