The young lady called "Cash," and soon a small girl was carrying the handkerchiefs and a fifty cent piece to the cashier. This left me five minutes for conversation, as no other customer was at hand. "So you are in the handkerchief department?" I remarked, by way of starting a conversation. "Yes." "Do you like it?" "I should prefer the book department. That is up-stairs, on the second floor. My tastes are _litery_." I am sure this was the word Ruth used. I was not disposed to criticise, however, only I wondered mildly how it happened that a young woman of literary tastes should make such a mistake. "I suppose you are fond of reading?" "Oh, yes, I have read considerable." "What, for instance?" "I have read one of Cooper's novels, I disremember the name, and the Gunmaker of Moscow, by Sylvanus Cobb, and _Poe's_ Tales, but I didn't like them much, they are so queer, and--and ever so many others." "I see you are quite a reader." "I should read more and find out more about books if I was in the book department. A friend of mine--Mary Ann Toner--is up there, and she knows a lot about books and authors." "Do any authors ever come in here, or rather to the book department?" "Yes; Mary Ann told me that there was a lady with long ringlets who wrote for the story papers who came in often. She had had two books published, and always inquired how they sold." "Do you remember her name?" "No, I disremember." I should like to have given her a hint that this word is hardly accounted correct, but I suspected that if I undertook to correct Miss Canby's English I should have my hands full. "Do you think you stand a chance to get into the book department?" "Mary Ann has agreed to speak for me when there is a vacancy. Do you often come into Macy's, Dr. Fenwick?" "This is my first visit." "You don't mean it? I thought everybody came to Macy's at least once a month." "Truly it looks like it," said I, looking about and noting the crowds of customers. "I hope you'll come again soon," said Ruth, as she turned to wait upon a lady. "I certainly will, Miss Canby. And it won't be altogether to buy goods." Ruth looked gratified and smiled her appreciation of the compliment. Certainly she looked comely and attractive with her rather high-colored country face, and I should have been excusable, being a bachelor, in letting my eyes rest complacently upon her rustic charms. But I was heart-proof so far as Ruth was concerned, I could not think of seeking a _litery_ wife. No, she was meant for some honest but uncultured young man, whose tastes and education were commensurate with hers. And yet, as I afterwards found, Ruth had made an impression in a quarter quite unexpected.