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as to what to do. "You meet me on Saturday," said Lucy to Emily, "and we will do Main Street together." She met Lucy on Saturday. Lucy had a list of places. "You--you're chairman," said Emmy Lou, "you ask----" It was at the door of the first place on the list, a large, open doorway, and it and the sidewalk were blocked with boxes and hogsheads and men rolling things into drays. Lucy and Emmy Lou went in; they went on going in, back through a lane between sacks and things stacked high; it was dark and cellar-like, and smelled of sugar and molasses. At last they reached a glass door, which was open. Emmy Lou stopped and held back, so did Lucy. "You--you're chairman--" said Emmy Lou. It was mean, she felt it was mean, she never felt meaner. Lucy went forward; she was pretty, her cheeks were bright and her hair waved up curly despite its braiding. She was blushing. A lot of men were at desks, dozens of men it seemed at first, though really there were four, three standing, one in his shirt sleeves. They looked up. The fourth man was in a revolving chair; he was in shirt sleeves, too, and had a cigar in his mouth; his face was red, and his hat was on the back of his head. "Well?" said the man, revolving just enough to see them. He looked cross. Lucy explained. Her cheeks were very red now. At first the man was testy, he did not seem to understand. Lucy's cheeks were redder, so Emmy Lou came forward, thinking she might make it plainer. She was blushing, too. They both explained; they both gazed at the man eagerly while they explained; they both looked pretty, but then they did not know that. The man wheeled round a little more and listened. Then he got up. He pushed his hat back and scratched his head and nodded as he surveyed them. Then he put a hand in pocket and pursed his lips as he looked down on them. "And what am I to get, if I give you the advertisement?" asked the man. He was smiling jocosely, and here he pinched Lucy's cheek playfully between a thumb and forefinger. Emmy Lou had kept her wits. She carried much paraphernalia under her arm. Miss Kilrain had posted them thoroughly as to their business. "And what, then, do I get?" repeated the man. Emmy Lou was producing a paper. "A receipt," said Emmy Lou. The man shouted. So did the other men. Emmy Lou and Lucy were bewildered. "It's worth the price," said the man. He promised them the advertisement, and walked back thro
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