“It’s the newest trick I’ve seen yet,” said another.

Thorpe could not help thinking of the difference between these exclamations and those he had expected to hear when the advertised blouses first burst on the beholders eyes.

At ten-thirty to the second the waiting women pounced.  Win’s nerve failed her for an instant in the hot forefront of her first battle, but she caught at Miss Kirk’s remembered words:  “You’ve got the look of those who win,” and the floorwalker’s advice:  “Keep your head and you’ll be all right.”  She mustn’t be a coward.  She mustn’t fall at her first shot.

Soon she realized that she need expect no help from Miss Stein or the five satellites who took their cue from her.  The Russian inspiration had happened to be acceptable but she was to be shown that she mustn’t take advantage of her start.  The question or two she began to ask had for an answer:  “Good Lord, don’t bother me!” “If you can’t see for yourself, what are your eyes for?” or “This ain’t the schoolroom, I don’t think!”

Maybe, she told herself, the girls were not always like this.  To-day they were desperate, and no wonder.  She mustn’t mind a few snubs.  They hardly knew what they were saying.  The check book was more formidable than it had seemed on the blackboard, and she envied the others their quick, almost mechanical way of adding and subtracting.  Would she ever be like that?  Meanwhile the thing was to keep the entries in her check book correct.

She was saved, perhaps, by the need which soon arose for one girl to put in shape for customers the blouses, sashes, and ties which had not been pinned together.  Just as her brain began to reel over a difficult calculation which must be made in a clamouring hurry, Miss Stein commanded a change of work.

“As soon as you’re through with this customer,” was the order.

Win took time to draw breath and finished the sum correctly “I should have gone flump over the next!” she thought, with a thankful sigh, for she was in her element, choosing colours and draping sashes to suit customers’ “styles.”  Miss Stein grudged her the distinction, but granted it for the sake of business.  If the girl showed signs of “uppishness” when the sale was over she should soon be made to see that it wouldn’t pay.

Even as it was, Win used up one whole check book, containing fifty order forms, and also her own vitality.  She had no time to realize how tired she was until half-past twelve brought the sale to an end.  Even then a thing that happened pushed away thought of self for a few more moments.

Walking beside Mr. Thorpe, the aisle manager, came a big, auburn-haired, red-moustached man of thirty three or four, with a particularly pleasant, smiling face of florid colour and excitable blue eyes.  He looked boyishly obstinate, and yet, Win thought, as if he might be easy to “get round,” unless some prejudice kept him firm.  She would not have thought of him at all had not the flush which suddenly swept over Miss Stein’s face suggested that this was “he.”