For some subtle reason, however, “chaps” did not pinch or tickle Win or slip arms around her waist.  One confided to another that he guessed there was nothing “didding” in that direction, and he’d as soon make love to the Statue of Liberty as an English Maypole; which was as well, for from the first moment of her entrance on the scene, the lion tamer kept his eyes open.  There were all sorts and conditions of men in Toys, but he was among them as a giant among pygmies; and even if the ex-ship’s steward, the ex-trolley driver, the conjurer out of a job, and the smart young men who had been “clerking since they were in long pants,” had wished to try their luck with Win, Earl Usher would have shown them the wisdom of turning their eyes elsewhere.

The news soon ran round Toyland that “Winsome Winnie” was Usher’s girl.  The male “assistants” did no worse than call her by her Christian name (they must have caught it from Sadie), and that was no cause of offence to girl from man in a department store.  Every girl in a department shared by men was “Kitty” or “Winny,” “Sadie” or “Sweetie,” while the men expected to be addressed as Mr. Jones or Mr. Brown, except by their own particular “petsies.”  Sadie was popular with all, even the “permanences,” who considered themselves above the “holiday extras.”  The ex-steward, a good-looking young German, had offered to get her a dandy place as stewardess when he felt ready to sniff salt water again, and though she wasn’t “taking any,” and often boxed his ears, she made “dates” with him for dance halls after business hours, especially one called Dreamland, which was too lovely for “wuyds.”  There were movies, and you could dance till ’most morning.  Real swell gentlemen, who wore red badges to show “they was all right,” came up and asked if they could “interdooce” other gents to you, in case you’d come in alone and didn’t have friends.  But Sadie always did have friends.

The red-haired girl, who had from the first been a haunting mystery for Win, was in the toy department.  Her name was Lily Leavitt, and—­as Sadie had already told Win—­she was “chucking herself” at Earl Usher’s head.  At first Miss Leavitt “lamped” Miss Child “something awful.”  But on the English girl’s third Toy day a thing happened which converted the enemy into a friend—­an all too devoted friend.

It was now so near Christmas that in the department devoted to toys and games you could not have placed a sheet of foreign notepaper between mothers (with a sprinkling of aunts and grandmas) unless you wanted it torn to pieces before you could count “One!” Children were massed together in a thick, low-growing underbrush, and of their species only babies were able to rise, like cream, to the top.  The air, or rather the atmosphere (since all the air had been breathed long ago), was to the nerves what tow is to fire.  Nobody could be in it for ten minutes without wanting to hit somebody else or push somebody else’s child, little brute! out of the way.