"Um--not very lively looking, are they? You see I want something to
cheer her up. She--well she's not been very well lately and I
thought something--oh something with a lot of _dash_ in it, you
know, would just fill the bill. But look here. We'll take both.
Sure--that's the way out of it. If she don't like the red, she'll
like the grey, and if she don't like the--You like the grey ones,
don't you? Then here"--picking up two pairs of the handsomely
embroidered grey stockings and handing them to the clerk--"One,"
holding up his thumb to denote one--"me,"--a vigorous pounding of
the chest signifying me. "One"--holding up his forefinger and
pointing to the girl--"mademoiselle."

"Oh no--no--no!" cried Virginia, her face instantly the colour of
the condemned stockings. Then, standing straight: "Certainly
_not_."

"No? Just as you say," he replied good humouredly. "Like to have you
have 'em. Seems as if strangers in a strange land oughtn't to stand
on ceremony."

The clerk was bending forward holding up the stockings alluringly.
"_Pour mademoiselle, n'est-ce-pas_?"

"_Mais--non!_" pronounced Virginia, with emphasis.

There followed an untranslatable gesture. "How droll!" shoulder and
outstretched hands were saying. "If the kind gentleman _wishes_
to give mademoiselle the _joli bas_--!"