“I’ve got to stop her! She shan’t smoke here in my shop. What would mother say?” she thought breathlessly to herself, trying to control the tremor that ran through her hands, so that she might set even stitches in her work. “I’ve _got_ to stop her! It’s my shop. She’s got no business to smoke here. Why, I wouldn’t let my best friend smoke here!” But though she protested these things to herself, Julie could not whip her courage up to bringing them forth in spoken words, and Elizabeth continued to puff out long blue columns of smoke, watching them with satisfaction, while with an affected gesture, she flecked her ashes here and there over the clean floor. She was in truth a little disappointed that her cigarette had provoked no comment. She had expected Julie at least to look startled, and was prepared to defend herself with condescending patronage. Julie’s silence was disconcerting, for Elizabeth possessed none of the spiritual antennæ with which to sense another’s atmosphere if unexpressed by word or gesture. She strolled back to the mirror, and under cover of patting her hair into place peeped at Julie’s reflection to see if she was being watched from behind her back. But Julie, whose weakness it was to have antennæ far too sensitive to another’s atmosphere, knew what Elizabeth expected, and kept her eyes resolutely upon the threading of her needle. It was a little defiant clash between the two women, of which Julie was fully aware, but which Elizabeth realized only from her own standpoint. At this moment Aunt Sadie Johnson bustled into the shop, and having none of Julie’s delicate hesitancy, exploded the hidden situation with a startled exclamation. “Julie,” she began, “I just ran in to see if that white ruchin’ I got you to order for me--Well, for the _mercy sake_!” she broke off, suddenly catching sight of Elizabeth. “Well, my lands!” she continued, staring frankly, and unafraid of drawing upon herself the full fire of the cigarette. It was some such violent attention as this that Elizabeth had hoped for. “What’s the matter?” she inquired in her most superior manner. “Oh,” feigning surprise, “my cigarette? Why surely, Mrs. Johnson, I’m not the first woman you’ve seen smoke.” “That you ain’t!” Aunt Sadie retorted promptly. “I’ve seen a plenty of ’em do it.” Elizabeth was somewhat dashed, but she rallied as best she could. “Well,” she said, “I’m glad Hart’s Run ain’t such a back number as not to know that all the smart women smoke nowadays.”