Jane, washing her hands in the bird-painted basin. "And a towel and soap! I suppose he must be the best man who ever lived."
There was no doubt about the success of the shop. Every woman who passed, and who had a few pence to spare, came in, drawn by irresistible curiosity, through the open gates that had so long been closed. And when the dark stream of workmen came down the road it diverted its course through those same gates, and before Mr. Simmons had finished the adjustment of his clips an<J bolts and nuts to the board and the railings, the shopkeepers were hugging each other behind the screen of the open cupboard door and repeating to each other in ecstasy the words: "Sold out, my dear, sold out!"
"Sold out, Mr. Simmons!" they cried in chorus as he came up to the window to announce the completion of his clipping and bolting and nuttting; "and we've got a whole bag of money, and thank you a thousand times for being such a friend."
"Sold out, have you?" said he, looking a little wistfully at the bare, water-splashed tables and bench on which stood the empty vases. "I wish I'd 'a thought to ask you to save me a few."
"Oh, but we have," said Jane, "only we hid them because people did bother us so to let them have them. And, Mr. Simmons, this isn't business. It's a presentation bouquet."
She took from the cupboard a bouquet of tulips and narcissus; a white paper stuck out stiffly from among the flowers. He read the paper slowly:
"To Mr. Simmons on the occasion of the opening of the Cedar Court shop. From his friends Jane Quested and Lucilla Craye."
"Well," he said, "I do take this kind. I never expected anything of the sort. I meant to"
"We know you did. But we like it best this way," said Jane; "and now we're going to have some tea, and you'll
