w, just to show you that I know what I'm talking about, Arnheim, I
got the best lines of new models for this season I've had since I'm
in business--every one of them domestics too. I'm puttin' some
made-in-America models in the import-room to-day that will open your
eyes."

Mr. Arnheim laughed and opened his portfolio. "I'll show you these till
my trunks come up," he said.

"Just a minute, Arnheim. I want to show you some stuff--Miss
Sternberger!" Mrs. Schlimberg raised her voice slightly, "Miss
Sternberger!"

Almost immediately a svelte, black-gowned figure appeared in the
doorway; she wore her hair oval about her face, like a Mona Lisa, and
her hands were long and the dusky white of ivory.

"Mr. Arnheim, I want to introduce you to a designer we've got since you
went away. Mr. Arnheim--Miss Sternberger."

The whir of sewing-machines from the workrooms cut the silence.

"How do you do?" said Miss Sternberger.

"How do you do?" said Mr. Arnheim.

"Miss Sternberger is like you, Mr. Arnheim--she's always out after
novelties; and I will say for her she don't miss out! She put out a line
of uncut velvets last winter that was the best sellers we had."

Mr. Arnheim bowed. Mrs. Schlimberg turned to Miss Sternberger.

"Miss Sternberger, will you bring in some of those new models that are
going like hot cakes? Just on the forms will do."

"Certainly." She disappeared from the doorway.

Mrs. Schlimberg tapped her forefinger on the desk. "There's the finest
little designer we've ever had! I got her off a Philadelphia house, and
I 'ain't never regretted the money I'm payin' her. She's done more for
the house in eight months than Miss Isaacs did in ten years!"

Miss Sternberger returned; a stock-boy wheeled in the new models on
wooden figures while Mrs. Schlimberg and her new designer arranged them
for display. Mrs. Schlimberg turned to Mr. Arnheim.

"How's the wife and boys, Arnheim? I 'ain't seen 'em since you brought
'em all in to see the Labor Day parade from the store windows last fall.
Them's fine boys you got there, Arnheim!"

"Thanks," said Arnheim.

"Now, Arnheim, I'm here to ask you if you can beat these. Look at that
there peach-bloom Piquette--look! Can you beat it? That there's the new
butterfly skirt--just one year ahead of anything that's being shown this
season." Mrs. Schlimberg turned to a second model. "Look at this here
ratine cutaway. If the Phoebe Snow ain't the talk of New York
before next we