“Send them back,” answered Tavia, with great recklessness, her chin still held high.
Dorothy admitted that of course it wasn’t at all possible to back away from such a saleswoman, but she felt quite guilty about something. “We shouldn’t have yielded to our feelings,” she said gently, “it would, at best, have been only momentary humiliation.”
“We’re in the wrong store,” said Tavia, decidedly, “I must see price signs that can be read a block away. This place is too exquisite!”
“Isn’t this the dearest!” Dorothy darted to the handkerchief counter, and picked up a dainty bit of lace.
Tavia gazed at the small lacy thing with rapt attention, cautiously trying to see some hidden mark to indicate the cost, but there was none.
“Something finer than this, please,” queried Tavia, of the saleswoman, “it’s exquisite, Dorothy, but not just what I like, you see.”
Dorothy kept a frightened pair of eyes downcast, as the saleswoman handed Tavia another lace handkerchief saying, with a genial smile: “Eighteen dollars.” Tavia held up the handkerchief critically: “And this one?” she asked, pointing to another.
“Twelve dollars,” replied the saleswoman, all attention.
“We must hurry on,” interposed Dorothy, grasping Tavia’s arm in sheer desperation, “there are so many other things, suppose we leave the handkerchiefs until last?”
Critically Tavia fingered the costly bits of lace, as if unable to decide. Then she smiled artlessly at the saleswoman. “It’s hard to say, of course, we’re so rushed for time, but we’ll look at them again.” Together the girls hurried for the street door.
“That was really New York style; wasn’t it?” triumphantly declared Tavia. “Never again will I submit to superior airs when I want to know the price.”
“Hadn’t we better ask someone where stores are that sell goods with price marks on them?” laughingly asked Dorothy.
They followed the crowd toward Broadway and Sixth Avenue. Gaily Tavia tripped along. She never had been happier in all her life. She loved the whirl and the people, and the never-ending air of gaiety. Dorothy liked it all, but it made her a bit weary; the festal air of the crowd did seem so meaningless.
When they reached Sixth Avenue it took but an instant for both girls to pick out the most enticing shop and thither they hurried. It was brilliantly lighted, the gorgeous splendor was Oriental in its beauty, there was no quiet hidden loveliness about this store, it dazzled and charmed and it had price signs! Just nice little white signs, with dull red figures, not at all “screeching” at customers, but most useful to persons of limited means. One could tell with the merest glance just what counter to keep away from.