Win was instantly sure that here was the man in the case; now, cherchez la femme!  And she had not to search far.

The two men did not come to the bargain square, but he of the red moustache slowed down to throw a glance of intense interest at the denuded counters and the customers who lingered, though the sale was ended, to buy “Pavlovas” at their suddenly augmented price.  He spoke to the floorwalker, and got some answer which Miss Stein would evidently have given at least a week out of her life to hear.  Then the pair passed on, but only to pause again plainly—­too plainly—­in sight of all eyes in the hollow square.

The red-moustached man parted company with his companion and went straight to a counter where lace scarfs and fichus and wonderful boudoir caps were achieving a brilliant success.  Instantly a fairy-like brunette with cherry lips and a bewitching, turned-up nose came forward with a sweet meekness that was the subtlest kind of coquetry.  Whatever he had to say was said in a second or two, and the girl answered as quickly.  But she went back to work with a conscious look which would to any watching woman announce that she considered the man her property.

“Little pig!” Win said to herself.  “She’s purring with joy because Miss Stein saw. (Do pigs purr?) Anyhow I am glad we’ve made a success.  That must be some comfort!  Why, at the Hands it’s like a big theatre with a lot of different stages, where the curtains go up unexpectedly and give you a glimpse of an act.”

But exciting as the plays were, the one in which she herself had a part began to seem very long drawn out when the first wild rush of the two-hour act was over.  Miss Stein, without a word of appreciation to the new recruit who had saved the day, went off with the anemic girl to lunch.  Two others left at the same time, and only a couple of the old guard remained to hold the fort with Win.  Three were quite enough, however, to cope with the diminished trade.  Customers, as well as saleswomen, were thinking of food; and as the crowd in the shopping centres of the great store thinned perceptibly, no doubt it thickened to the darkening of the air in the famous Pompeian restaurant on the top floor.

Most of the best “confections” in the hollow square were sold, and Win was aware, as interest slackened, that she felt “rather like a hollow square” herself.

There was a little “flap” chair turned up against each of the four counters, and at ebb-tide of custom Win looked at them wistfully.

“I suppose we’re allowed to sit down for a minute when there’s nothing to do?” she inquired of a plump, dull-eyed girl who was furtively polishing the nails of one hand with the ball of her other palm.

“We’re legally allowed to, if that’s what you mean,” replied the other.  “But we’re not encouraged to.  I wouldn’t, my first day, anyways, if I was you.”

“Thank you very much,” said Winifred.  “It’s good of you to tell me things.  I won’t sit down, since you advise me not.  But it is hard, standing up so long, especially after such a rush as we’ve had, isn’t it?”