“Why, Mr. Willing, good afternoon! How pleasant to meet you on the
avenue like this. But what are you doing in the shopping district?
Hunting bargain neckties? There, there, don’t look so utterly
galvanized; I didn’t mean it. Besides, I know perfectly well why you’re
here; you came on the mere chance of meeting me! Ah, ha, you needn’t
look so embarrassed about it. I don’t mind being seen with you; I’m not
a bit exclusive. Well, it was a shame to tease him—so it was. Now, as a
very special favor, how would you like to go into Price’s with me, while
I shop a little?
“H’m, you don’t seem awfully eager. What? Walk up the avenue instead?
Well, we will, afterward. But let’s run in here just a minute while I
buy a veil. It won’t take any time at all. And then we can go for a
walk.
“Oh, what a crowd! I do think the people get thicker every year. Well,
did you get through? I thought I’d lost you. When I saw you wedged in
that revolving door with that fat lady you looked so funny. She was real
cross, wasn’t she? But you were so meek, I had to laugh. You looked like
a feeble-minded jelly fish.
“Now, now, Willy Willing, don’t peeve. Smile a ’ittle bitsy; yes, you do
seem to be the only man here. But I’m glad to have you, it is so nice to
have a man to pilot one through a shopping crowd. Oh, of course, the
floor-walkers are just for that purpose, but they can’t go outside their
diocese, or whatever you call it. Now, you can go ahead and blaze a
trail. The veil counter is over that way, I think, anyway, it’s quite
near the ribbons and catty-cornered across from the artificial flowers.
“Yes, here we are at last. Now, I’ll sit on this stool and you stand
right by me. Don’t let women push in between us, for I want your advice.
“Oh, look who’s here! Why, Tottie May! I haven’t seen you since we were
in Venice. Do you remember Venice? And those two long lines of Hoffman
houses each side of the Grand Canal! Wasn’t it stunning? You, darling,
how lovely to see you again. Yes, yes, I do, I do want to be waited on,
but do wait a minute, can’t you? Yes, I want veiling, by the
yard—there, that’s the kind I want. Oh! please don’t let that woman
carry it off!
“Goodby, darling, must you go? Yes, the large meshed kind. Oh, no, not
that one covered with little blue beads. I should feel as if I had
turquoise measles. I want a sort of gray—the shade they call
‘Frightened Mouse’—though why a mouse should ever be frightened when we
are all scared to death of them—There, Mr. Willing, do you think this
one is becoming? When I hold it up against my face, so. Where’s baby?
Peep-bo. Oh, gracious, that floor-walker thought I peep-boed at him.
“Mercy me, I have rubbed all the powder off my nose. Oh, no, it won’t
hurt the veil. I beg your pardon, madame, did I push you with my elbow?
Indeed, I’m not taking up all the room. I’m fearfully crowded. And I
rather fancy I can try the effect of a veil if I want to.
“Now, Willy Willing, how do you like this one, with the big polka dots?
Yes, I know, only one dot shows, they’re so big and so far apart. But
polka dots are so fashionable.
“Do you know the polka is coming in again—the dance I mean? They call
it the panther polka? It’s awful sinuous—a sort of stealthy
glide—makes you think of Sarah Bernhardt, or Elinor Weeks, but the best
people have taken it up.
“What? you’re afraid they’ll get taken up? Oh, Willie Willing, how witty
you are.
“There, do you like this veil? Don’t you think it suits my hair? Mr. Dow
says my hair is a yellow peril. I don’t know what he means.
“You like my face better without my veil? Why, how pretty of you. Now,
just for that I’ll let you select one.
“You’d select a bridal veil? Oh, fie, fie, Mr. Willing. You don’t
really—Yes, I do want a veil. Please show me some of your other styles.
And Mr. Willing, what do you think? At Gladys’s wedding next week, she
is going to have—Certainly, my dear girl, I’m ready to look at your
goods, but these are not the veils I want. Show me something newer,
these are all—Why, Gladys said that Polly Peters said—do you remember
Polly Peters? Well, you’d never know her now. Slim! She’s nothing but a
spine—Yes, my girl, I’m looking at your veils, but I want the piece
that lady has just picked up. Let’s wait till she lays it down.
“Now, Mr. Willing, you mustn’t get impatient. You men don’t realize what
hard work shopping is, until now—Oh, my gracious! I have to be at our
culture class by 4 o’clock. There’s a lecture on ‘Art Uplift in the
Kitchen,’ and I know it will be fine.
“No, I don’t cook, but it’s such a satisfaction to know that one’s soup
is made in a Greek-shaped jug, instead of a crude iron kettle—Oh,
mercy, no! I wouldn’t wear a veil like that! Why, Mrs. Bailey had one
like that once, and the very day I saw her wearing it I lost my amethyst
hatpin. I’ve always considered a veil like that unlucky ever since.
“Well, I don’t seem to care for any of these veils, they’re not a bit
distinctive. And a veil is such an important part of a costume—it
dresses up the face so. These patterns are most uninteresting.
“Come on, Willing Willy, let’s go down to Storer’s and look at veils
there—shall us?
“Why, you don’t seem to want to go a bit. Now, don’t go just to please
me. I thought perhaps you were interested in—
“Oh, do you want to go? Do you know I believe you men just love to go
shopping, and you only pretend you don’t.
“I am sorry, dear, that your veils don’t suit me, but, of course, I
can’t buy what I don’t want just to help the store along; you couldn’t
expect that, could you?
“And, anyway, I wasn’t exactly buying a veil—I was just shopping for
one.”