with the rafters showing overhead in a cloudy perspective,
and darkening away into the perpetual twilight at the rear
of the building; and Bartley had found an agreeable seat
on the head of a half-barrel of the paint, which he was
reluctant to leave. But he rose and followed the vigorous
lead of Lapham back to the office, where the sun of a
long summer afternoon was just beginning to glare in at
the window. On shelves opposite Lapham's desk were tin
cans of various sizes, arranged in tapering cylinders,
and showing, in a pattern diminishing toward the top,
the same label borne by the casks and barrels in the wareroom.
Lapham merely waved his hand toward these; but when Bartley,
after a comprehensive glance at them, gave his whole
attention to a row of clean, smooth jars, where different
tints of the paint showed through flawless glass,
Lapham smiled, and waited in pleased expectation.

"Hello!" said Bartley. "That's pretty!"

"Yes," assented Lapham, "it is rather nice.
It's our latest thing, and we find it takes with
customers first-rate. Look here!" he said, taking down
one of the jars, and pointing to the first line of the label.

Bartley read, "THE PERSIS BRAND," and then he looked
at Lapham and smiled.

"After HER, of course," said Lapham. "Got it up and
put the first of it on the market her last birthday.
She was pleased."