“Do you keep ban-ban-banners?” asked Nannie, growing confused again.

“Which?  I hope you don’t mean any disrespect to the flag of your country, ma’am?”

“No sir; I mean handkerchiefs,” said Nannie, innocently.

“Ah! yes, I understand.  I think we have the article in question.”

A number of the red and yellow silks were produced, and while the brown eyes scanned them in some perplexity, the mischievous young clerk surveyed the comical little figure before him, and gravely asked: 

“Is that quantity sufficient for the exercise of your predilections? or would you like an additional supply?”

“I would like ’leven cents worth,” stammered Nannie.

“Eleven cents worth of silk handkerchiefs?  That’s a novelty now!” laughed the boy.  “Why, you see that wouldn’t be a seventh part of one of these bits of magnificence,—­not a scrap large enough for a respectable doll.  We really couldn’t do it, ma’am.  The owner of this establishment has a nonsensical way of always selling his handkerchiefs whole.”

[Illustration:  “‘SEVENTY-FIVE CENTS APIECE,’ SAID THE OLD GENTLEMAN.”]

Then, at sight of the disappointed little face, his fun yielded to an impulse of kindness, and from a far-away corner he produced an old box with the dust of disuse lying thickly upon it.  It contained some small cotton handkerchiefs, gayly printed, with border, pictures and verses, in bright colors.  Nannie’s eyes brightened.  They were much prettier than the others, she thought, and they were only ten cents!  She wavered uncertainly between a pink and a blue one, and finally appealed to the clerk for advice.

“Which is the nicest?  Couldn’t really say, ma’am.  If you want it for winter use, the blue would probably match best with your nose; but if you keep it specially for fits of weeping, the red might be nearest the proper tint.”

Nannie looked at him solemnly, but not understanding him in the least:  she decided upon the blue one, and turned away with the precious package in her hand.  It was certainly growing late.  The rosy glow had all vanished from the west, and one star was peeping out dimly.

“A good deal after supper-time,” murmured Nannie, anxiously.  Then, glancing down a side street, she caught sight of a baker’s sign.  It was but a few steps, and she was very hungry, so she determined to invest her remaining cent in a piece of gingerbread.  Eager to be on her homeward way she walked rapidly, and this did not suit the fancy of a large dog in a neighboring yard.  He bounded toward the fence, barking furiously, and in a moment Nannie discovered that he had pushed open the gate and was upon the street.  She fled at full speed away beyond the shop and down another street.  At last a corner hid him from view, and he did not follow her.  She dared not retrace her steps for fear of meeting him, and she abandoned all hope of a visit to the bakery.  There must be other ways