It did not take long for them to get established in their suite, and while Miss Hansford rested upon the easy couch and calculated how long she could afford so expensive accommodations, with all the rest she meant to spend, Elithe was taking in the sights and sounds of the busy, narrow thoroughfare, whose noise nearly drove Miss Hansford wild, but was delightfully exhilarating to her. This was life,—this was the world,—this was Boston, of which she had thought so much and dreamed so often in her home among the Rockies, and she would willingly have sat all day watching the ever-changing panorama in front of the hotel. But her aunt had other business on hand than counting cars and carriages and people. She was there to shop, and the sooner they were at it the better. It took her the remainder of that day and a part of the next before she was fairly launched. She visited Jordan and Marsh’s, and White’s, and Hollander’s, one after the other, telling them what she wanted, getting prices and samples for comparison, and sometimes making Elithe blush for her brusque, decided ways, which amused the clerks greatly. At each establishment she called for the _head man_, and told him she was going to run up a big bill and pay on the spot. She wanted several outfits for her niece, all of the best kind and latest style; nothing last year’s would answer, and she should trade where she could get the best material and the best attention. “I don’t like the manners of some of your help, whisperin’ and nudgin’ each other,” she continued, with a wave of her hands towards two or three young girls, who could not keep from smiling at “the queer woman talking so funny to their boss.” After this the lady was treated with the utmost deference, and the clerks nearly knocked each other down to serve her. After a good many trips back and forth from one store to another, and becoming so bewildered with prices and quality and style that she scarcely knew what she was about, or what she wanted, she decided to “stick to one place, if they cheated her eye-teeth out, as she presumed they would.” The suave floor-walker rubbed his hands together,—told her how delighted he was at having her patronage,—assured her that nowhere would she be better pleased or get more for her money, and then handed her over to the Philistines. For the next three or four days she was a conspicuous figure in the establishment, where the “queer old woman and beautiful girl” came to be well known by sight and freely commented upon. She wanted everything “up to the mark, and was going the whole figger,” she said. Everybody was eager to wait upon her, and overwhelmed her with so many suggestions and assurances of what was fashionable that she might have defeated her own purpose if Elithe had not come to the rescue. She knew what young girls wore better than her aunt, who gave the matter up to her, telling her to get what she pleased regardless of expense.