"I want some red calico," I said to a man.
"Furniture goods?" he asked.
"Yes," said I.
"Fourth counter to the left."
I went to the fourth counter to the left, and showed my sample to a
salesman. He looked at it, and said: "You'll get this down on the
first floor--calico department."
I turned on my heel, descended in the elevator, and went out on
Broadway. I was thoroughly sick of red calico. But I determined to
make one more trial. My wife had bought her red calico not long
before, and there must be some to be had somewhere. I ought to have
asked her where she bought it, but I thought a simple little thing like
that could be procured anywhere.
I went into another large dry-goods store. As I entered the door a
sudden tremor seized me. I could not bear to take out that piece of
red calico. If I had had any other kind of a rag about me--a pen-wiper
or anything of the sort--I think I would have asked them if they could
match that.
But I stepped up to a young woman and presented my sample, with the
usual question.
"Back room, counter on the left," she said.