was playing on the steps. Hopkins gave her a nice, red rose and
walked upstairs.

Mrs. Hopkins was philandering with curl-papers.

"Get your cigar?" she asked, disinterestedly.

"Sure," said Hopkins, "and I knocked around a while outside. It's a
nice night."

He sat upon the hornblende sofa, took out the stump of his cigar,
lighted it, and gazed at the graceful figures in "The Storm" on the
opposite wall.

"I was telling you," said he, "about Mr. Whipple's suit. It's a gray,
with an invisible check, and it looks fine."




III

A LICKPENNY LOVER


There, were 3,000 girls in the Biggest Store. Masie was one of them.
She was eighteen and a saleslady in the gents' gloves. Here she
became versed in two varieties of human beings--the kind of gents who
buy their gloves in department stores and the kind of women who buy
gloves for unfortunate gents. Besides this wide knowledge of the