Jethro led the way in silence until they came to the models.  She planted herself in front of them and looked them over swiftly but critically.

“What is the age of the lady?”

“W-what difference does that make?” said Jethro, whose instinct was against committing himself to strangers.

“Difference!” she exclaimed sharply, “it makes a considerable difference.  Perhaps not to you, but to the lady.  What coloring is she?”

“C-coloring?  She’s white.”

His companion turned her back on him.

“What size is she?”

“A-about that size,” said Jethro, pointing to a model.

“About! about!” she ejaculated, and then she faced him.  “Now look here, my friend,” she said vigorously, “there’s something very mysterious about all this.  You look like a good man, but you may be a very wicked one for all I know.  I’ve lived long enough to discover that appearances, especially where your sex is concerned, are deceitful.  Unless you are willing to tell me who this lady is for whom you are buying silk dresses, and what your relationship is to her, I shall leave you.  And mind, no evasions.  I can detect the truth pretty well when I hear it.”

Unexpected as it was, Jethro gave back a step or two before this onslaught of feminine virtue, and the movement did not tend to raise him in the lady’s esteem.  He felt that he would rather face General Grant a thousand times than this person.  She was, indeed, preparing to sweep away when there came a familiar tap-tap behind them on the bare floor, and he turned to behold Ephraim hobbling toward them with the aid of his green umbrella, Cynthia by his side.

“Why, it’s Uncle Jethro,” cried Cynthia, looking at him and the lady in astonishment, and then with equal astonishment at the models.  “What in the world are you doing here?” Then a light seemed to dawn on her.

“You frauds!  So this is what you were whispering about!  This is the way Cousin Ephraim buys his shirts!”

“C-Cynthy,” said Jethro, apologetically, “d-don’t you think you ought to have a nice city dress for that supper party?”

“So you’re ashamed of my country clothes, are you?” she asked gayly.

“W-want you to have the best, Cynthy,” he replied.  “I-I-meant to have it all chose and bought when you come, but I got into a kind of argument with this lady.”

“Argument!” exclaimed the lady.  But she did not seem displeased.  She had been staring very fixedly at Cynthia.  “My dear,” she continued kindly, “you look like some one I used to know a long, long time ago, and I’ll be glad to help you.  Your uncle may be sensible enough in other matters, but I tell him frankly he is out of place here.  Let him go away and sit down somewhere with the other gentleman, and we’ll get the dress between us, if he’ll tell us how much to pay.”

“P-pay anything, so’s you get it,” said Jethro.

“Uncle Jethro, do you really want it so much?”