"Why, of course."
"Well," she went on, kind of ill-at-ease like, "for something better to do, I might look over some of your foolishness, if you'll go out and bring your stuff in."
"All right," I said, quiet, though I could have thrown up my hat, if I'd had it handy, and shouted.
"An antique man," Isabel went on, "told me once, that these unset cameos of my mother's," she hauled out a little package from the front of her waist, "were worth a lot of money. I didn't know but what you'd take 'em for pay," she said, "that is, if you've got anythin' I took a fancy to."
I reached out and Isabel passed me the cameos. My customers don't have any use for anythin' antique. Really, the cameos were nothin' I wanted, but I said, examinin' the littlest one of them careful ('bout as big as a five-cent piece, 'twas), "Why, Isabel, even this small little feller would buy you a lot of my stuff. I got an awful pretty one-piece challie with white dots that ought to look real nice on you. Go inside and light up, and I'll bring my shop in."
We were busy for an hour or more takin' off and tryin' on, shakin' out and foldin' up, comparin' and examinin', selectin' and discardin'. I had
