“Listen here,” the proprietor interrupted, and he regarded these fastidious customers somewhat unfavourably. “You’re wastin’ my time on me. Say what it is you want or go somewheres else.” “Well, have you got some _very_ nice blue-silk lamp-shades?” Daisy inquired, and she added: “With gold fringe an’ tassels?” “Lamp-shades!” he said, and he had the air of a person who begins to feel seriously annoyed. “Listen! Go on out o’ here!” But Daisy ignored his rudeness. “Have you got any _very_ good unb’eached muslin?” she asked. “You go on out o’ here!” the man shouted. “You go on out o’ here or I’ll untie my dog.” “Well, I declare!” Elsie exclaimed as she moved toward the door. “I never was treated like this in all my days!” “What kind of a dog is it?” Daisy asked, for she was interested. “It’s a _biting_ dog,” the drug-store man informed her; and she thought best to retire with Elsie. The two came out to the sidewalk and went on their way, giggling surreptitiously, and busier than ever with their chatter. After a moment the injured party in the background again followed them. “They’ll find _out_ what’s goin’ to happen to ’em,” he muttered, continuing his gloomy rhapsody. “‘_Please_ speak to us, Laurunce,’ they’ll say. ‘Oh, Laurunce, pull-_lease_!’ An’ then I’ll jus’ keep on laughin’ at ’em an’ callin’ ’em everything the worst I ever heard, while they keep hollerin’: ‘Oh, Laur-runce, pull-_lease_!’” A passer-by, a kind-faced woman of middle age, caught the murmur from his slightly moving lips, and halted inquiringly. “What is it, little boy?” she asked. “What?” he said. “Were you speaking to me, little boy? Didn’t you say ‘Please’?” “No, I didn’t,” he replied, colouring high; for he did not like to be called “little boy” by anybody, and he was particularly averse to this form of address on the lips of a total stranger. Moreover, no indignant person who is talking to himself cares to be asked what he is saying. “I never said a thing to you,” he added crossly. “What’s the matter of you, anyhow?” “Good gracious!” she exclaimed. “What a bad, rude little boy! Shame on you!” “I ain’t a little boy, an’ shame on your own self!” he retorted; but she had already gone upon her way, and he was again following the busy shoppers. As he went on his mouth was slightly in motion, though it was careful not to open, and his slender neck was imperceptibly distended by small explosions of sound, for he continued his dialogues, but omitted any enunciation that might attract the impertinence of strangers. “It’s none o’ your ole biznuss!” he said, addressing the middle-aged woman in this internal manner. “_I’ll_ show you who you’re talkin’ to! I guess when you get through with _me_ you’ll know somep’m! Shame on your own self!” Then his eyes grew large as they followed the peculiar behaviour of the two demoiselles before him. “My goodness!” he said. Daisy was just preceding Elsie into a barber-shop.