First I took Jimmie and Randolph to a men’s outfitting shop where the
atmosphere is august. Alicia offered to come along, but though Jimmie
is hotly attached to her, he was vocal with objections.
"This is men’s business," he cried, "and us men must go alone."
"_We_ men," corrected Laura, laughing and kissing him.
"_Us_ men know how to talk!" he retorted, violently rubbing the kiss
from his cheek. Kisses, he implied, were all very well in their place,
but not at important crises in masculine lives, not when the _toga
virilis_ was hanging grandly from their shoulders.
"Come on, old man," Randolph interposed with a wink in my direction, and
Jimmie’s wrath was appeased. The "old man" soothed and uplifted him to
the proper pitch of virile dignity.
The seventy-five dollars laid out upon those two boys have given me more
satisfaction than anything else recently—until I spent the balance upon
the girls. Men’s shops are prosaic and dull compared with those Greek
temples that line Fifth Avenue with feminine apparel. As the paymaster
for the boys I was unnoticed. As the "uncle" of the two girls opening
the door to heart’s desire, I was an object of almost affectionate
solicitude to the saleswoman. They were alert to help and advise. What
a freemasonry, an empire within an empire, is the domain of women’s
clothes! In the latest slang and in words from Shakespeare the jaded
saleswomen were eager to interpret my wishes.
"I want some frocks and things for these girls," I announced boldly in
one of the great shops. "Not too expensive but things nice girls ought
to wear."
"I know," nasally asserted an efficient blonde, ceasing her mastication
and mysteriously secreting what she was chewing somewhere in her
capacious mouth. "Somethin’ nice and classy—and quiet, but—_you_ know!"
"Er—precisely—"
"Neat but not gaudy?" put in her more pallid, more "cultured" companion,
with a faded smile to complete the specification.
"Ah—exactly so," I murmured and Laura seemed to experience a difficulty
in restraining herself from giggling.
Alicia, however, with the simple directness that is hers, proceeded
quietly to mention voiles and organdies and soon the discussion became
technical and I helpless. I thought it wise to whisper to Alicia the
amount of money at her disposal. She gasped her astonishment with a
blush and then a beautiful light of gratitude and pleasure leaped into
her eyes and I believe the child was going to cry. I turned away
quickly, and steadily she proceeded with the business in hand.
To the lady who quoted Polonius, the neat but not gaudy one, I intrusted
the selection of those things that I was not to see; she was sincerely
gratified at my confidence and, I believe, conscientious.
There was just about enough change left for refreshments at Huyler’s for
the girls and paterfamilias. Gay were the spirits in which we three
traveled homeward. How ridiculous Gertrude would make me, if she knew
it!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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