of Spades in person," he added,
in an undertone, for L. Hernandez was standing in the open door-way of
the shop and regarding us with a curious fixity of glance.

Now, through the summer-time it is the custom of the Division Street
modistes to occupy seats placed on the sidewalk. In a business where
competition is so strenuous one must be prepared to catch the customer
on the hop. Even in winter the larger establishments will keep a scout
on duty outside, and the lesser proprietor must, at least, cast an
occasional eye to windward, if the balance of trade is to be preserved.
Undoubtedly Madame Hernandez was taking a purely business observation,
and we had chanced to fall within its focus.

The resemblance was, indeed, striking. There was the banded hair over
the eyes, the slightly drooping mouth, the peculiar upspring of the
eyebrow arch--the Queen of Spades in person, as Indiman had said. And
this was her third appearance.

Indiman removed his hat with a sweep. "Madame," he said, with elaborate
civility, "it is a beautiful day."

"What of it?" retorted L. Hernandez, ungraciously enough. "Or perhaps
the sun isn't shining above Madison Square," she added, sarcastically.
A strange voice this, raucous in quality and abnormally low in pitch.

"I haven't noticed," said Indiman, with undisturbed good-humor. "Alike
upon the just and unjust, you know. Now if you will kindly allow me to
pass--"

"What do you want in my shop?"

"I desire to purchase that hat," replied Indiman, and pointed to the
atrocity in the window.

"It is not for sale."

"I am prepared to pay liberally for what strikes my fancy." He took out
a roll of bills.

"The hat is not for sale."

"Madame," said Indiman, with the utmost suavity, "are you in business
for your health?"

"I am."

"Oh, in that case--"

"You may come inside; it tires me to be on my feet for so long. To my
sorrow I grow stout."

"It is an affliction," murmured Indiman, sympathetically. We followed
her within. The shop was crammed from floor to ceiling with bandboxes
arranged in three or four rows, and glazed presses, filled with
feminine hats and bonnets, lined the walls. Near the window was a small
counter, behind which Madame L. Hernandez immediately installed
herself, and from this vantage-point she proceeded to inspect us with
cool deliberation, fanning herself the while with a huge palm-leaf.
"You wish to buy a hat?" she said, tentatively.

"That one," answered I