His car came to a standstill before one
great plate-glass frame behind which was a representation of a
sewing-room with several people busily at work. So perfect were the
figures that it hardly seemed as if they could be of wax. One pretty
girl was sewing at a machine; another, on her knees, was fitting a frock
to a little girl who laughed over her shoulder at a second child who was
looking on. The mother of the family sewed by a drop-light on a
work-table. The whole scene was really charming, combining precisely the
element of domesticity with that of accomplishment which strikes the eye
of the average passer as "looking like home," no matter of what sort the
home might be.
"By heavens! if poor Ben had something like that people wouldn't pass
him by for the blanket store," he said to himself; and drove on, still
thinking.
The next day, at an hour before the morning tide of shopping at Kendrick
& Company's had reached the flood, two pretty glove clerks were suddenly
tempted into a furtive exchange of conversation at an unoccupied end of
their counter.
"Look quick! See the young man coming this way? It's Rich Kendrick.
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