A floorwalker, or “aisle manager,” showed her the place where the “great two-hour bargain sale of coloured blouses, sashes, and ladies’ fancy neckwear” was advertised to begin at ten-thirty.  As he steered the girl through the crowd he looked at her with interest, and she would have looked with interest at him could she have done so without his knowing it.  She had vaguely heard that shopwalkers in England could make or break the salespeople.  Probably floorwalkers in America were the same, or more powerful, because everybody in this free country who had any power at all seemed to have more than he could possibly have anywhere else.

This man was extremely handsome she saw in the one quick, veiled glance which can tell a girl as much as a boy is able to take in with a long stare.  He was tall and dark and clean shaven, with polished black hair like a jet helmet, and brown eyes.  Few princes could hope to be as well dressed, and if he had been an actor, only to see his shoulders would have made a matinee girl long to lay her head upon one. Why wasn’t he an actor, then, at many dollars a week, instead of a floorwalker at a few?  It must be that his fairy godmother had forgotten to endow him with some essential talent.

Seeing that he looked at her sympathetically with his rather sad, dark eyes, Win ventured with all respect to beg a little enlightenment as to a two-hour bargain sale.

“It means that certain things are marked down for two hours,” he explained, “and after that anything left of the lot goes up to the old price again.  It’s a pretty hard test for one who’s new to the whole business.  The superintendent, Mr. Meggison, has put you on to a pretty stiff thing,” he added.  And then again, after an instant’s pause:  “You’re going to land in a wasps’ nest over there.  There’s some electricity in the atmosphere this morning.  But keep your head and you’ll be all right.”

They came within sight of a hollow square formed by four long counters.  Above it was a placard with red and black lettering which announced the sale to begin at half-past ten; everything to be sold at bargain price till twelve-thirty.  Within were six saleswomen, two for each side of the square; and the question flashed through Win’s head:  Why had she been imported to make an odd number?  It was an exciting question, taken in connection with the floorwalker’s warning.

Until sale time these counters were out of the congested region; and the six saleswomen were taking advantage of the lull before the storm to put finishing touches on the arrangement of the stock.  The instant that Win was inside the square it was as if she had been suddenly swallowed up in a thunder cloud.  The head saleswoman (she must be that, Win thought, judging from the attention paid her by the rest) was in a black rage—­a beautiful Jewess, older than the others, and growing overplump, but magnificently browed, and hardly thirty yet.