department counted one hundred and thirty millions of
dollars. One hundred and thirty millions!" He stands there
in his ill-fitting coat, and his star, and rubs one bony
hand over the other.

"Dear me!" says a lady tourist from Idaho, rather
inadequately. And yet, not so inadequately. What
exclamation is there, please, that fits a sum like one
hundred and thirty millions of anything?

Fanny Brandeis, fresh from Winnebago, Wisconsin, slipped
into the great scheme of things at the Haynes-Cooper plant
like part of a perfectly planned blue print. It was as
though she had been thought out and shaped for this
particular corner. And the reason for it was, primarily,
Winnebago, Wisconsin. For Haynes-Cooper grew and
thrived on just such towns, with their surrounding farms and
villages. Haynes-Cooper had their fingers on the pulse and
heart of the country as did no other industry. They were
close, close. When rugs began to take the place of ingrain
carpets it was Haynes-Cooper who first sensed the change.
Oh, they had had them in New York years before, certainly.
But after all, it isn't New York's artistic progress that
shows the development of this nation. It is the thing they
are thinking, and doing, and learning in Backwash, Nebraska,
that marks time for these United States. There may be a
certain significance in the announcement that New York has
dropped the Russian craze and has gone in for that quaint
Chinese stuff. My dear, it makes the loveliest hangings and
decorations. When Fifth Avenue takes down its filet lace