tleman brought his head to the perpendicular
and replied: 'Gloves! Yes, madam,' and proceeded to reach down a
half-dozen boxes from the shelves at his back.

"'This, madam,' he said, bringing forth a pair of grey suedes, 'is a
beautiful glove. One of Flint's very best make, and they are produced
specially for our firm. Every pair is guaranteed. We can very
strongly recommend them.'

"The lady took the gloves in her hand, stretched them, and examined
them slowly and critically, whilst the D.Y.G.'s head dropped to the
artistic angle again.

"After having eyed them in silence for a minute or more, and half
conveyed the impression that they were the very gloves she was seeking,
the lady placed them without a word on the counter, and the D.Y.G. with
perfect understanding replaced them in the box.

"He opened another box containing suede gloves in tan.

"'This also is an excellent glove, madam,' he repeated, with all the
precision of a gramophone; 'it is one of our best selling lines, and
its wearing qualities are unsurpassed. You may buy more expensive
gloves, but none of better value.'

"This pair is subjected to the same slow and critical examination,
after which the lady inquires:

"'What is the price?'

"'The price of these gloves, madam, is seven-and-six.' Professing to
confirm his statement by minutely examining the ticket, though, of
course, he is perfectly well aware that there is no mistake, he
repeats: 'Yes, madam, seven-and-six.'

"Again the gloves are laid upon the counter, and again the D.Y.G.
replaces the lid and attacks another box! Meanwhile the lady's gaze is
wandering abstractedly around the shop; picking out an acquaintance
here and there she smiles a recognition; and she seems a little vexed
when a third pair of gloves is placed before her. The same performance
follows, with the same serenity on both sides, but the price has
dropped to five shillings.

"Then the kids are produced, in all shades and at all prices, and are
in turn deposited upon the counter without comment.

"At last the D.Y.G. has exhausted his stock and his familiar
recitations, but fortunately not his urbanity, and he looks at his
customer with deprecation in his eyes.

"'You had some white kid gloves in the window a week or two ago,' she
murmurs, smiling sweetly; 'ten buttons; they were a special price, I
think.'

"'Two-and-eleven, madam?' he asks, hopefully.

"'I believe they were. Yes, two-and-eleven,' she