Mr. Saunders made his appearance from among a little group of clerks with whom he had been indulging in a few jokes by way of relief from the tedium of business. "Come this way," he said to Ellen; and sauntering before her, with a rather dissatisfied air, led the way out of the entrance hall into another and much larger apartment. There were plenty of people here too, and just as busy as those they had quitted. Mr. Saunders having brought Ellen to the merino counter, placed himself behind it; and leaning over it and fixing his eyes carelessly upon her, asked what she wanted to look at. His tone and manner struck Ellen most unpleasantly, and made her again wish herself out of the store. He was a tall, lank young man, with a quantity of fair hair combed down on each side of his face, a slovenly exterior, and the most disagreeable pair of eyes, Ellen thought, she had ever beheld. She could not bear to meet them, and cast down her own. Their look was bold, ill-bred, and ill-humoured; and Ellen felt, though she couldn't have told why, that she need not expect either kindness or politeness from him. "What do you want to see, little one?" inquired this gentleman, as if he had a business on hand he would like to be rid of. Ellen heartily wished he was rid of it, and she too. "Merinoes, if you please," she answered, without looking up. "Well, what kind of merinoes? Here are all sorts and descriptions of merinoes, and I can't pull them all down, you know, for you to look at. What kind do you want?" "I don't know without looking," said Ellen, "won't you please to show me some?" He tossed down several pieces upon the counter, and tumbled them about before her. "There," said he, "is that anything like what you want? There's a pink one, and there's a blue one, and there's a green one. Is that the kind?" "This is the kind," said Ellen; "but this isn't the colour I want." "What colour do you want?" "Something dark, if you please." "Well, there, that green's dark; won't that do? See, that would make up very pretty for you." "No," said Ellen; "mamma don't like green." "Why don't she come and choose her stuffs herself, then? What colour _does_ she like?" "Dark blue, or dark brown, or a nice grey would do," said Ellen, "if it is fine enough." "'Dark blue,' or 'dark brown,' or a 'nice grey,' eh! Well, she's pretty easy to suit. A dark blue I've showed you already; what's the matter with that?" "It isn't dark enough," said Ellen. "Well," said he discontentedly, pulling down another piece, "how'll that do? That's dark enough." It was a fine and beautiful piece, very different from those he had showed her at first. Even Ellen could see that, and fumbling for her little pattern of merino, she compared it with the piece. They agreed perfectly as to fineness. "What is the price of this?" she asked, with trembling hope that she was going to be rewarded by success for all the trouble of her enterprise. "Two dollars a yard."