dared not repeat his
visit until he could carry him the money.

The male Blobbs, the taller and more rotund of the two
shopkeepers--especially about the middle--now strolled in, leaned over
the counter, and picking up the lace, held it to the overhead light.
Looked at from behind, Blobbs was all shirt-sleeves and waist-coat, the
back of his flat head resting like a lid on his shoulders. Looked at
from the front, Blobbs developed into a person with shoe-brush whiskers
bristling against two yellow cheeks, the features being the five dots
a child always insists upon when drawing a face. Dalton saw at a glance
that it was Mrs. Blobbs, and not Mr. Blobbs, who was in charge of
the shop, and that any discussions with him as to the price would be
useless.

"You're an Hinglishnan, I take it," came from the lowest dot of the
five, a blurred and uncertain mouth.

Dalton colored slightly and nodded.

"Well, what I should adwise ye to do is to take this 'ere lace to some
of them hold furnitoor shops. I know what this is. I 'ate to see a chap
like ye put to it like this, that's why I tell ye. 'Ard on your woman,
but--there's a shop hup on Fourth Avenue where they buy such things. A
Dutchman by the name of Kling, right on the corner--you can't miss it.
Take it hup to 'im and tell 'im I sent ye--we often 'elps one another."

Dalton crumpled up the black wad, slid the package under his coat, and
without a word of thanks left the shop.

This was not the first time Blobbs had sent Kling a customer.
Indeed, there had always been more or less of a trade between the two
establishments. For, while Mrs. Blobbs had a license and could advance
money at reasonable rates, her principal business was in old-clothes
and ready-to-wear finery. Being near "The Avenue" and well known to its
denizens, many of their outgrown and out-of-fashion garments had passed
across her counter. Here the young man who pounded away on Masie's
piano, the night of her birthday party, borrowed, for a trifle, his
evening suit. Here Codman had exchanged a three-year-old overcoat,
which refused to be buttoned across his constantly increasing girth,
for enough money to pay for the velvet cuffs and collar of the new one
purchased on Sixth Avenue. Here Mrs. Codman bought remnants of finery
with which to adorn her young daughter's skirts when she went to the
ball given by the Washington chowder party. Here, too, was where the
undertaker sold the clothes of the man who step