He never tired, however, of looking at the curious goods offered for sale. There were dried figs, packed in the most curious, bowl-shaped baskets woven of straw or grass; and dried dates, put up in various odd packages; and curious Turkish candies and pastries, unlike anything Willie had ever seen; and Turkish tobaccos, and pistachio nuts, which Willie had never seen before, and which he promptly sampled. And Willie was amused at one ferret-eyed shopman’s embarrassment, when, in pouring the nuts out of a can for Willie, he found a little white handkerchief in the can, that doubtless one of the man’s numerous babies had hidden away there. For the can was kept down low, behind the counter. And the trinkets were so interesting—the rings and bracelets and earrings and necklaces of semi-precious stones and even of cheap metals like copper and brass. But what took Willie’s eye especially was the lace work. Again and again he had seen the Armenian women on the sidewalks and doorsteps plying their needles and making these beautiful pieces. There were wonderful shawls edged with lace, and lace handkerchiefs, and lace scarfs, and marvelous table-cloths, and no end of laces for edging waists and skirts and pillows, and other beautiful things. Most of all Willie looked with envious eyes on the lace collars. He wanted one for his mother. Often she wore simple lace collars, and Willie thought she never was so beautiful as when she wore a dark dress with a lace collar to frame her face. He meant to buy one of these collars just as soon as he could save the necessary amount of money. It really required no great sum, Willie found, to buy many of these articles. But he did not yet have even that little. Willie would have paid small heed to the relative price of these Oriental offerings, and indeed he would hardly have known the prices were very different from prices elsewhere for similar goods, had it not been for an incident that occurred one day. Mr. King, in hunting through one of his pockets, came upon a neglected and forgotten letter. It was an announcement of the marriage of an old friend. “By George!” said the Special Agent, gazing ruefully at the recovered announcement. “I forgot about that. I meant to send Frank some little token. I mustn’t wait another minute.” Then he looked at his engagement calendar, and sank back in his seat. He could not possibly get away that day to buy anything. “Willie,” called the Treasury Agent through the open door, “I wish you’d do an errand for me.” “I’ll be glad to,” said Willie, stepping to Mr. King’s desk. “Here’s a ten-dollar bill, Willie. Jump into the subway and run up to Wanamaker’s. Get me a dozen nice napkins. If you can get some with embroidered edges for that price, I’d like them. If you can’t, get some plain ones. But they must be of good quality and a pretty pattern.” “I’d be glad to do the errand, Mr. King, but are you sure you would like what I select?”