“Oh, I thought prob’ly you could play it.  You can do ’most everything.  Honest, I’ve never seen nothing like it.”

“Now you stop, Mr. Wrenn.  I know I’m a—­what was it Mr. Teddem used to call me?  A minx.  But—­”

“Miss Nelly! You aren’t a minx!”

“Well—­”

“Or a mink, either.  You’re a—­let’s see—­an antelope.”

“I am not!  Even if I can wriggle my nose like a rabbit.  Besides, it sounds like a muskmelon.  But, anyway, the head buyer said I was crazy to-day.”

“If I heard him say you were crazy—­”

“Would you beat him for me?” She cuddled a cushion and smiled gratefully.  Her big eyes seemed to fill with light.

He caught himself wanting to kiss the softness of her shoulder, but he said only, “Well, I ain’t much of a scrapper, but I’d try to make it interesting for him.”

“Tell me, did you ever have a fight?  When you were a boy?  Were you such a bad boy?”

“I never did when I was a boy, but—­well—­I did have a couple of fights when I was on the cattle-boat and in England.  Neither of them amounted to very much, though, I guess.  I was scared stiff!”

“Don’t believe it!”

“Sure I was.”

“I don’t believe you’d be scared.  You’re too earnest.”

“Me, Miss Nelly?  Why, I’m a regular cut-up.”

“You stop making fun of yourself!  I like it when you’re earnest—­like when you saw that beautiful snowfall last night....  Oh dear, isn’t it hard to have to miss so many beautiful things here in the city—­there’s just the parks, and even there there aren’t any birds, real wild birds, like we used to have in Pennsylvania.”

“Yes, isn’t it!  Isn’t it hard!” Mr. Wrenn drew nearer and looked sympathy.

“I’m afraid I’m getting gushy.  Miss Hartenstein—­she’s in my department—­she’d laugh at me....  But I do love birds and squirrels and pussy-willows and all those things.  In summer I love to go on picnics on Staten Island or tramp in Van Cortlandt Park.”

“Would you go on a picnic with me some day next spring?” Hastily, “I mean with Miss Proudfoot and Mrs. Arty and me?”

“I should be pleased to.”  She was prim but trusting about it.  “Oh, listen, Mr. Wrenn; did you ever tramp along the Palisades as far as Englewood?  It’s lovely there—­the woods and the river and all those funny little tugs puffing along, way way down below you—­why, I could lie on the rocks up there and just dream and dream for hours.  After I’ve spent Sunday up there”—­she was dreaming now, he saw, and his heart was passionately tender toward her—­“I don’t hardly mind a bit having to go back to the store Monday morning....  You’ve been up along there, haven’t you?”

“Me?  Why, I guess I’m the guy that discovered the Palisades!...  Yes, it is won-derful up there!”

“Oh, you are, are you?  I read about that in American history!...  But honestly, Mr. Wrenn, I do believe you care for tramps and things—­not like that Teddem or Mr. Duncan—­they always want to just stay in town—­or even Tom, though he’s an old dear.”