It was not the amount of the purchase that angered and alarmed me. Two pounds eight--twelve dollars--was not so much. If she had asked me, if she had said she desired the racket and the rest of it during the drive over, I think, feeling as I did during that drive, I should have bought them for her. But she had not asked; she had calmly bought them without consulting me at all. She had come to Wrayton for that very purpose. And then had told the clerk that I would pay. The brazen presumption of it! I was merely a convenience, a sort of walking bank account, to be drawn upon as she saw fit, at her imperial will, if you please. It made no difference, to her mind, whether I liked it or not--whether I could afford it or not. I could, of course, afford this trifling sum, but this was only the beginning. If I permitted this there was no telling to what extent she might go on, buying and buying and buying. This was a precedent--that was what it was, a precedent; and a precedent once established... It should not be established. I had vowed to Hephzy that it should not. I would prove to this girl that I had a will of my own. The time had come. One of the boys who had been so anxious to hold the horse was performing that entirely unnecessary duty. “Stay here until I come back,” I ordered and hurried to the draper's. She was there standing before the counter, and an elderly man was displaying cloths--white flannels and serges they appeared to be. She was not in the least perturbed at my entrance. “So you came, after all,” she said. “I wondered if you would. Now you must help me. I don't know what your taste in tennis flannels may be, but I hope it is good. I shall have these made up at Mayberry, of course. My other frocks--and I need so many of them--I shall buy in London. Do you fancy this, now?” I don't know whether I fancied it or not. I am quite sure I could not remember what it was if I were asked. “Well?” she asked, after an instant. “Do you?” “I--I don't know,” I said. “May I ask you to step outside one moment. I--I have something I wish to say.” She regarded me curiously. “Something you wish to say?” she repeated. “What is it?” “I--I can't tell you here.” “Why not, pray?” “Because I can't.” She looked at me still more intently. I was conscious of the salesman's regard also. My tone, I am sure, was anything but gracious, and I imagine I appeared as disgusted and embarrassed as I felt. She turned away. “I think I will choose this one,” she said, addressing the clerk. “You may give me five yards. Oh, yes; and I may as well take the same amount of the other. You may wrap it for me.” “Yes, miss, yes. Thank you, miss. Is there anything else?” She hesitated. Then, after another sidelong glance at me, she said: “Yes, I believe there is. I wish to see some buttons, some braid, and--oh, ever so many things. Please show them to me.” “Yes, miss, certainly. This way, if you please.” She turned to me.