phones and
Heaven knows what. People don't care to buy half a pound of sugar
nowadays unless they can listen to Harry Lauder and have the latest
Australian cricket scores ticked off before their eyes. With the big
Christmas stock we've got in we ought to keep half a dozen assistants
hard at work, but as it is my nephew Jimmy and myself can pretty well
attend to it ourselves. It's a nice stock of goods, too, if I could only
run it off in a few weeks time, but there's no chance of that--not unless
the London line was to get snowed up for a fortnight before Christmas. I
did have a sort of idea of engaging Miss Luffcombe to give recitations
during afternoons; she made a great hit at the Post Office entertainment
with her rendering of 'Little Beatrice's Resolve'."

"Anything less likely to make your shop a fashionable shopping centre I
can't imagine," said the artist, with a very genuine shudder; "if I were
trying to decide between the merits of Carlsbad plums and confected figs
as a winter dessert it would infuriate me to have my train of thought
entangled with little Beatrice's resolve to be an Angel of Light or a
girl scout. No," he continued, "the desire to get something thrown in
for nothing is a ruling passion with the feminine shopper, but you can't
afford to pander effectively to it. Why not appeal to another instinct;
which dominates not only the woman shopper but the male shopper--in fact,
the entire human race?"

"What is that instinct, sir?" said the grocer.

* * * * *

Mrs. Greyes and Miss Fritten had missed the 2.18 to Town, and as there
was not another train till 3.12 they thought that they might as well make
their grocery purchases at Scarrick's. It would not be sensational, they
agreed, but it would still be shopping.

For some minutes they had the shop almost to themselves, as far as
customers were concerned, but while they were debating the respective
virtues and blemishes of two competing brands of anchovy paste they were
startled by an order, given across the counter, for six pomegranates and
a packet of quail seed. Neither commodity was in general demand in that
neighbourhood. Equally unusual was the style and appearance of the
customer; about sixteen years old, with dark olive skin, large dusky
eyes, and think, low-growing, blue-black hair, he might have made his
living as an artist's model. As a matter of fact he did. The bowl of
beaten brass that he produced for the reception of his p