well re- membered, his head appeared to be surmounted with a rim of thin, iron-gray hair, with a hberal display of shiny scalp at the top.
As time passed on the Little Old ]\Iaid formed the habit of looking each morn- ing for the handsome dummy with the face of "Archie/' and when no one was near she would whisper softly, "Good morning, dear," cherishing the foolish whim that she could hear in reply a whispered, "Good morning, little woman."
And every night at 6 o'clock the soft-hazel eyes of the Little Old Maid spoke a loving though inaiulible good-night to the melancholy brown orbs that must have looked expressionless to any one but this little, lonely, fanciful maiden of thirty- ejglit. .
The girl clerks around her, with the worldly wisdom of modern eighteen, began to cast shy looks at one another when she seemed particularly absent-minded.
"There goes Winters to 'er lunch. Just notice, ]\[ame' how she always goes through the men's department. Bet she's stuck on some one in there. Must be one o' them dummies, I guess. She'd be too scared to look at a real man."
"Gee, I shu'd sav so. poor old thing. Wonder how it feels to be an old maid. Say, Kit, how do you like my hair this way? Bob says — Buttons, ma'am. Yes'm, right down this aisle, third counter to the left. \Yho was that, Kit? Swell, ain't she? Regular Klondiker, but her hair is bleached all right."
"Sure," responded Kit fervently, studying the outlines of the stylish imported siiit disappearing down the aisle.
Finally there came a dark day for the Little Old Maid. The handsome dummy did not stand in its accustomed place one morning in late November, and she was somehow smitten with a sense of loss.
Then the elderly floorwalker in passing her counter laid a big golden aster down in front of her. She glanced up from the flower to catch a smile and wink nimbly exchanged between the young girls at her side.
With one sweep of her duster she whisked the flower from the counter to the floor, and viciously stepped on it, immediately hating herself for the deed.
Late in the day,' after dealing with a particularly trying customer, her tired brain served her a shabby trick. Figures may not lie, but they are frequently guilty of far greater sins, and on this occasion they danced wickedly before her wearied eyes with such mocking hilarity that somehow the mistake was made that Tes\iltcd in her being sent for by the cashier.
She never knew how it happened, but of course the firm could not afford to ilose nine dollars, so she must bear the loss occasioned by setting down the wrong ^figures.
It was a dreadful calamity to befall a little woman who was really in dire meed of a new winter suit, and when the mistake had been adjusted and the re- sponsibility properly fixed, the Little Old Maid crept out of the office and through the half-lighted building with burning eyes and a heavy heart.
It was past the hour of 6, and the store was deserted. She passed between long canvas-covered counters, on to the men's departuient, where the draped tables chilled her with their funereal suggestiveness. Everything was silent, cold, forlorn, and the forlornest thing of all was this bit of unhappy womanhood.
She resolutely choked bac^k the tears and hurried along through the empty aisles that an hour ago had been populous. All at once she recognized with a thrill that the dear counterpart of "Archie" stood in its accustomed place, just a few feet down the aisle.
As she drew near it she cast one anxious glance around. Not even the janitor was in siglit, and the Little Old Maid laid her head softly down against that manly shoulder, sobbing under her lu'eath, "Oh, Archie, Archie. I'm so lonely and tired!"
In the tumult of her grief she did not feel the beating of the heart under the gray fall overcoat.
An instant late r a Tremulous elderly voice spoke from under the soft felt hat. "My name is licmuel: but I knew you was all broken up, so
