Bowles and Steinberger sprang from their chairs, and came forward in
the usual comfortable glow of pleasure at sight of her.

"What do you think of that for all the comforts of a home?" said
Tembarom. "As if it wasn't enough for a man to have new socks without
having marks put on them! What are your old socks made of anyhow--
solid gold? Burglars ain't going to break in and steal them."

"They won't when I've marked them, Mr. Tembarom," answered Little Ann,
looking up at him with sober, round, for-get-me-not blue eyes, but
with a deep dimple breaking out near her lip; "but all three pairs
would not come home from the wash if I didn't."

"Three pairs!" ejaculated Tembarom. "He's got three pairs of socks!
New? That's what's been the matter with him for the last week. Don't
you mark them for him, Little Ann. 'Tain't good for a man to have
everything."

"Here they are," said Jim, bringing them forward. "Twenty-five marked
down to ten at Tracy's. Are they pretty good?"

Little Ann looked them over with the practised eye of a connoisseur
of bargains.

"They'd be about a shilling in Manchester shops," she decided, "and
they might be put down to sixpence. They're good enough to take care
of."

She was not the young woman who is ready for prolonged lively
conversation in halls and at bedroom doors, and she had turned away