I got mine!

They certainly taught me the Rojestvensky glide, all right!

At the door of the department; store a nice young man with a pink necktie and a quick forehead bowed to me.

“What do you wish?” he asked.

“Well,” I said; “I’m down here to get a birthday present for my wife.  I would like something which would afford her great pleasure when I give it to her and which I could use afterwards as a pen-wiper or a fishing-rod.”

“Second floor; to the right; take the elevator,” said the man.

Did you ever try to take an elevator in a department store and find that 3,943 other American citizens and citizenettes were also trying to take the same elevator?

How sweet it is to mingle in the arms of utter strangers and to feel the gentle pressure of a foot we never hope to meet again!

I was standing by one of the counters on the second floor when a shrill voice crept up over a few bales of dry goods and said, “Are you a buyer or a handler?”

“I am looking for a birthday present for my wife,” I answered.  “I want to get something that will look swell on the parlor table and may, be used later on as a tobacco jar or a trouser stretcher!”

“Fourth floor; to the left; take the elevator!” said the lady’s voice.

With bowed bead I walked away.

I began to feel sorry for my wife.

Nobody seemed to be very much interested whether she got a birthday present or not.

On the fourth floor I stopped at a counter where a lot of eager dames were pawing over some chinchilla ribbon and chiffon over-skirts.

It reminded me of the way our dog digs up the vegetables in the garden.

I enjoyed the excitement of the game for about ten minutes and then I said to the clerk behind the counter who was refereeing the match, “Can you tell me where I can buy a sterling silver birthday present for my wife which I could use afterwards as a night key or a bath sponge?”

“Fifth floor; to the rear; take the elevator!” said the clerk.

On the fifth floor I went over to a table where a young lady was selling “The Life and Libraries of Andrew Carnegie” at four dollars a month and fifty cents a week, and in three years it is yours if you don’t lose the receipts.

She gave me a glad smile and I felt a thrill of encouragement.

“Excuse me,” I said, “but I am looking for a birthday present for my wife which will make all the neighbors jealous, and which I can use afterwards as an ash-receiver or a pocket flask.”

The young lady cut out the giggles and pointed to the northwest.

I went over there.

To my surprise I found another counter.

A pale young woman was behind it.

I was just about to ask her the fatal question when a young man wearing a ragtime expression on his face rushed up and said to the young lady behind the counter, “I am looking for a suitable present for a young lady friend of mine with golden brown hair.  Could you please suggest something?”