was the literal word--who stood there with puckered-up face swinging
the flaming hose would seem in the same shameful class with snubbing
the little boy who confidently asked her what kind of ribbon to buy
for his mother.

"Was it for your wife you were thinking of buying these red
stockings?" she ventured.

"Sure. What do you think of 'em? Look as if they came from Paris all
right, don't they?"

"Oh, they look as though they came from Paris, all right," Virginia
repeated, a bit grimly. "But do you know"--this quite as to that
little boy who might be buying the ribbon--"American women don't
always care for all the things that look as if they came from Paris.
Is your wife--does she care especially for red stockings?"

"Don't believe she ever had a pair in her life. That's why I thought
it might please her."

Virginia looked down and away. There were times when dimples made
things hard for one.

Then she said, with gentle gravity: "There are quite a number of
women in America who don't care much for red stockings. It would
seem too bad, wouldn't it, if after you got these clear home your
wife should turn out to be one of those people? Now, I think these
grey stockings are lovely. I'm sure any woman would love them. She
could wear them with grey suede slippers and they would be so soft
and pretty."