Mary-’Gusta did not laugh, nor did she answer.  Instead, she turned to the gentleman who had entered the store.

“Good morning, Mr. Keith,” she said.  “Was there anything you wanted?”

Keith smiled.  “No hurry,” he said.  “I’ve got a little time to kill and if you don’t mind I’ll kill it here.  I’ll sit down and wait, if I may.  That boatman of mine will be along pretty soon.”

He took the chair by the door.  Mr. Kron continued his exploitation of the combination calendar and beauty-box.

“You are goin’ to a party,” he went on, “either that night or that afternoon or sometime.  Sure you are!  Girls like you ain’t handed the go-by on many parties in this neck of the woods—­am I right?  Well, then, when the time comes, you pull down the flap.  There’s your beauty-box, lookin’-glass, powder puff and powder, all complete.  Now a novelty like that will sell—­”

“We couldn’t use it,” interrupted Mary-’Gusta.  “Show me something else.”

Mr. Kron, disappointed but far from discouraged, showed her something else—­many somethings.  Concerning each he was enthusiastic, slangy, and familiar.  Mary-’Gusta paid little attention to slang or enthusiasm; the familiarity she ignored utterly.  She selected several of the novelties, a rather extensive line of Christmas cards, and in the matters of price and cash discounts was keen and businesslike.  Keith watched and listened, at first with amusement, then with growing admiration for the girl’s simplicity and good sense.

Mr. Kron’s admiration was outspoken.

“Say,” he said, as he repacked his samples, “you’re a mighty clever buyer, do you know it?  That line of stuff you’ve ordered is the cream, that’s what it is.  You made a mistake in not layin’ in a dozen or two of those combination beauty-boxes, but that’s all right.  Here, have one for yourself.  Take it with my compliments.”

Mary-’Gusta declined.  “No, thank you,” she said.

“Why not?  It don’t come out of my pocket.  The firm expects me to hand out little keepsakes like that.  I’ve been plantin’ ’em with the girls all the way down.”

“No, thank you,” she replied.

Mr. Kron, having finished his business as representative of Messrs. Bernstein, Goldberg and Baun, attempted a stroke of his own.

“Say,” he said, “I’ve got a little spare time on my hands this evenin’; I shan’t make the next town until tomorrow.  There’s a new movie theater just opened over to Orham.  They tell me it’s all to the mustard.  I can hire a rig here and you and me might drive over tonight and take it in.  What do you say, Kid?”

“No, thank you,” said Mary-’Gusta again.

“But—­”

“No, thank you.  Good day.”

She turned away to enter the order she had just given in a book on the desk.  Mr. Kron tried again, but she did not appear to hear him.  He grinned, observed “Oh, very well!” and, with a wink at Mr. Keith, went out, a suitcase in each hand.