The lady was standing by a showcase in which Joe had just finished arranging a display of skates. She was quietly dressed, but Tom knew that such clothes cost a deal of money. She smiled in a friendly way at the boy as he leaned inquiringly across the counter, copying Joe’s best manner, and Tom decided then and there that she must be awfully nice and jolly. She had laid a big black muff on the case and now she moved it aside that she might see better what lay beneath. Then she raised her glance to Tom again as he asked, “Is there something I can show you, ma’am?” “I want a pair----” she began. Then her smile deepened and Tom thought afterward that she had even laughed a tiny bit. At all events, her subsequent remark was strangely at variance with her start, for, her eyes twinkling, she asked amazingly, “Does your hair still bother you?” “Ma’am!” ejaculated Tom, thinking he must have misunderstood. This time she really did laugh--a short, rippling little murmur of a laugh--as she answered: “I asked if your hair still bothered you. But it was rather an impertinent question, perhaps, so I won’t demand an answer.” She ended demurely, apologetically, and seemed waiting for Tom to say something. He had an uncomfortable but not altogether unpleasant sensation of being made fun of. “I--I guess I don’t just understand you,” he stammered. “Never mind,” she replied sweetly. “It’s of no consequence. I want to get a pair of skates, please. For a boy,” she added. “Yes’m. All-clamp?” “Goodness, are there different kinds?” she asked in a pretty dismay. “Yes’m, we have four or five kinds and they sell all the way from seventy-five cents to six dollars. I guess, though, you want a pair of half-clamp at about three dollars. Like these.” Tom opened the case and laid a pair of skates on the counter alongside. The lady looked at them doubtfully, held one up, and then thoughtfully ran it along the counter, shaking her head. “I think I’ll have to leave it to you,” she said, “for I know very little about skates, especially boys’ skates. You see, I want them for my boy. They were to be a Christmas present, but he’s been ill at home for two weeks now and the doctor has promised him he can get out of the house in a few days and he’s very eager to go skating. Of course he can’t, just right away, because he hurt his shoulder rather badly playing football and I suppose skating wouldn’t be good for it. But it seemed too bad to make him wait nearly a month for skates when the skating has already begun. Don’t you think so?” “Yes’m,” said Tom heartily. “That’s what I thought. So his father and I decided he should have the skates now. I dare say there’ll be plenty of other things he will want by Christmas,” she added smilingly. “Oh, I almost forgot. He wanted hockey skates. Are these hockey skates?”