"These handkerchiefs are ten cents, Dr. Fenwick," said Ruth, showing a fair article.

"I think I can go a little higher."

"And these are fifteen. They are nearly all linen."

"I will buy a couple to try," I said, by way of excusing my small purchase.

The young lady called "Cash," and[Pg 64] soon a small girl was carrying the handkerchiefs and a fifty cent piece to the cashier. This left me five minutes for conversation, as no other customer was at hand.

[Pg 64]

"So you are in the handkerchief department?" I remarked, by way of starting a conversation.

"Yes."

"Do you like it?"

"I should prefer the book department. That is up-stairs, on the second floor. My tastes are litery."

I am sure this was the word Ruth used. I was not disposed to criticise, however, only I wondered mildly how it happened that a young woman of literary tastes should make such a mistake.

"I suppose you are fond of reading?"

"Oh, yes, I have read considerable."

"What, for instance?"

"I have read one of Cooper's novels, I disremember the name, and the Gunmaker of Moscow, by Sylvanus Cobb,[Pg 65] and Poe's Tales, but I didn't like them much, they are so queer, and—and ever so many others."

[Pg 65]

"I see you are quite a reader."

"I should read more and find out more about books if I was in the book department. A friend of mine—Mary Ann Toner—is up there, and she knows a lot about books and authors."

"Do any authors ever come in here, or rather to the book department?"

"Yes; Mary Ann told me that there was a lady with long ringlets who wrote for the story papers who came in often. She had had two books published, and always inquired how they sold."

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