f-pity, and it went straight to
the older woman's heart.

"I'll be careful," said Eloise. "I think it's dear of you."

"Now," said Barbara, stooping to peer into the corners of the deep
chest, "I think that's all." She began, hurriedly, to price everything
as she passed it to Eloise, giving the highest price each time. When she
had finished, she was amazed at Miss Wynne's face--it was so full of
resentment.

"Do you mean to tell me," asked Eloise, in a queer voice, "that you are
asking _that_ for _these_?"

The blue eyes threatened to overflow, but Barbara straightened herself
proudly. "It is all hand work," she said, with quiet dignity, "and the
material is the very best. I could not possibly afford to sell it for
less."

"You goose," laughed Eloise, "you have misunderstood me. There is not a
thing here that is not worth at least a third more than you are asking
for it. Give me a pencil and paper and some pins."

[Sidenote: Higher Prices]

Barbara obeyed, wondering what this beautiful visitor would do next.
Eloise took up every garment and examined it critically. Then she made a
new price tag and pinned it over the old one. She advanced even the
plainest garments at least a third, the more elaborate ones were
doubled, and some of the embroidered things were even tripled in price.
When she came to the shirtwaist patterns, exquisitely embroidered upon
sheerest handkerchief linen, she shamelessly multiplied the price by
four and pinned the new tag on.

"Oh," gasped Barbara; "nobody will ever pay that much for things to
wear."

"Somebody is going to right now," announced Eloise, with decision. "I'll
take this, and this, and this," she went on, rapidly choosing, "and
these, and these, and this. I'll take those four for a friend of mine
who is going to be married next week--this solves the eternal problem of
wedding-presents--and all of these for next Santa Claus time.

"I can use all the handkerchiefs, and every pin-cushion cover and
corsage-pad you've made. Please don't sell anything else until I've
heard from some more of my friends to whom I have already written. And
you're not to offer one of these exquisite things to those
unappreciative people at the hotel, for I have a letter from a friend
who is on the Board of Directors of the Woman's Exchange, and got a
chance for you to sell there. How long have you been doing this?"

[Sidenote: In a Whirl of Confusion]

"Seven or eight years," murmured Barbara. H