“Hello, Tony, my dear,” he greeted cordially.  “It is good to see you round again.  We have missed you.  This boy of mine getting you what you want?”

“He is trying,” smiled Tony.  “A woman doesn’t always know what she wants, Mr. Lambert.  The store is wonderful since it was enlarged and I see lots of other improvements too.”  Her eyes swept her surroundings with sincere appreciation.

“Make your bow to Phil for all that.  It is good to get fresh brains into a business.  We old fogies need jerking out of our ruts.”

The older man’s eyes fell upon Phil’s bowed head and Tony realized how much it meant to him to have his son with him at last, pulling shoulder to shoulder.

“New brains nothing!” protested Phil.  “Dad’s got me skinned going and coming for progressiveness.  As for old fogies he’s the youngest man I know.  Make all your bows to him, Tony.  It is where they belong.”  And Phil got to his feet and himself made a solemn obeisance in Stuart Lambert’s direction.

Mr. Lambert chuckled.

“Phil was always a blarney,” he said.  “Don’t know where he got it.  Don’t you believe a word he says, my dear.”  But Tony saw he was immensely pleased with Phil’s tribute for all that.  “How do you like the sign?” he asked.

“Fine.  Looks good to me and I know it does to you, Mr. Lambert.”

“Well, rather.”  The speaker rested his hand on Phil’s shoulder a moment.  “I tell you it is good, young lady, to have the son part added, worth waiting for.  I’m mighty proud of that sign.  Between you and me, Miss Tony, I’m proud of my son too.”

“Who is blarneying now?” laughed Phil.  “Go on with you, Dad.  You are spoiling my sale.”

The father chuckled again and moved away.  Phil looked down at the girl.

“I think your question is answered.  I can’t leave Dunbury,” he said.

“Then Carlotta ought to come to you.”

“There are no oughts in Carlotta’s bright lexicon.  I don’t blame her, Tony.  Dunbury is a dead hole from most points of view.  I am afraid she wouldn’t be happy here.  You wouldn’t be yourself forever.  Bet you are planning to get away right now.”

Tony nodded ruefully.

“I suppose I am, Phil.  The modern young woman isn’t much to pin one’s faith to I am afraid.  Do I get another slipper?  Or is one enough?”

Phil came back from his mental aberration with a start and a grin at his own expense.

“I am afraid I am not a very good salesman today,” he apologized.  “Honestly I do better usually but you hit me in a vulnerable spot.”

“You do care for Carlotta then?” probed Tony.

“Care!  I’m crazy over her.  I’d go on my hands and knees to Crest House if I thought I could get her to marry me by doing it.”

“You would much better go by train—­the next one.  That’s my advice.  Are you coming to Sue Emerson’s dance?  That is why I am buying slippers.  You can dance with ’em if you’ll come.”