He had never yet had occasion to scold No. 2884; and, as a matter of fact, had noted her as a “lively proposition.”  He had seen that if 2884 had a few minutes to spare, she usually occupied them, not in polishing her nails or talking about last night’s dance, as not a few of the girls did, but in “looking over stock,” peeping into boxes, and peering into the background of shelves in order to see for herself what was available without having to question salespeople who had been longer in the department than she.

This was the sure sign of a “winner”; and besides, 2884 had the right way with customers.  She kept her temper, even with the most irritating “lemons.”  Her charming enthusiasm about the toys and her knowledge of their mechanism (when they had any) often hypnotized customers into buying expensive things they had not intended to take.  With remarkable quickness she had picked up slang danger signals by which one “assistant” can warn another of impending trouble.

She understood the warning cry of “ishra ankra” for a “crank,” and could give the pencil taps telegraphing from counter to counter that a notorious “pill” or an “I’ll-come-back-again” was bearing down on the department.  She seemed to know by instinct when she could offer to send a toy C.O.D. for a stranger without fear of “cold pig”—­having the thing returned unpaid—­and she could give enough of her own vitality to a tired woman to make her want to buy.

All these virtues Mr. Tobias had discerned in 2884, and with such heart as he had, he admired her.  He intended, if she went on as she had begun, to “set the good word going” which would reach those “at the top.”  But now, at a moment when he happened through acute indigestion to be in a particularly fretful mood, he believed that he had found out the “bright girl” in a grave fault.

It was too late to inveigle the lost client back, but while Win was hastily replacing dolls in boxes before taking another customer, Mr. Tobias pounced.  “Why did you let that lady go without showing her any of our best dolls?” he inquired, angling for guilt in her soul’s depths with a fishhook glare.

“I showed her everything of the price she wanted, and even some a little higher,” 2884 excused herself.

“What about the doll you all call ‘Little Sister?’” Tobias threw out the question as if it were a lasso.  “I hear you’ve said that you won’t part with that one if you can help it.”

Win grew pink, though she firmly gave him back look for look.  Little Sister was her favourite doll, and it was an open secret that Miss Child didn’t wish to sell it unless she could be sure of finding it a suitable and happy home.  In fact, she hated the thought of a sale.  Many Teddy bears and other interesting personalities she had learned to like, and to miss when they went the way of all good Teddy animals; but Little Sister she loved, and to barter that adorable sunny head, those laughing brown eyes and dimples, for money seemed almost as bad as the auctioning of a child in the slave market.  If she had had twenty dollars to play with she would have bought the doll for herself.  As it was, she had to plead guilty to Mr. Tobias’s charge.