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1905.] “that papa was a bad shopper; he ’d do better if he had more money.”

“Oh, yes, I understand,” said Mr, Saunders. “Now show me the girl you bought the coat of.”

“Oh, it was n’t a girl,” said Lucy; “it was—a—a—lady! There she is now.”

Mr, Saunders walked up to her. Lucy was amazed at the mild gentleness of the princess—indeed, she scarcely seemed a princess now,

“Did you sell this coat?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, It is one of those we have had so long in stock. Mr. Chase is very anxious to work them off.”

Mr. Saunders noticed the brown coat on the form. “Is that the one you liked?” he asked.

Lucy nodded. “But it’s ten dollars,” she whispered, tugging his hand.

“Take it down and put it on her, please,” said Mr. Saunders, commanding the now obedient princess. Lucy stood motionless while the brown coat was being tried on.

He watched her as she walked to the mirror.

“What do you think of that?” Mr. Saunders asked the lady.

“Oh, that ’s very much better, of course; only they said they could n’t pay much, and we wanted to get rid of those blues. If I’d known they were friends of yours—”

“Well, how do you like it?” he asked, as Lucy backed into him, too delighted to remove her eyes from her mirrored figure.

“I know mama ’d like it,” she whispered.

“Well, then, if you think your father would n’t object, suppose we take it.”

“But it’s ten dollars, and papa said he could n’t pay any more than six and a half”

“This has just been marked down to six and a half” said Mr. Saunders with a smile, and then, with a word or two to the princess, he led Lucy back to the candy counter.

“Oh!” gasped Lucy, “is this for me?” as the girl at the candy counter reached out to her a white-papered box tied up with a silvery string.

“Yes, child, yes,” said Mr. Saunders. “Don’t look so frightened. And now I ’ll say good-by, for I think I see your father.”

“Oh, yes; there he is—thank you, thank you so much! Why, he’s gone! Here, papa; here I am! Oh, papa, that gentleman changed my coat, but this one costs just the same. It’s marked down to six and a half.”

Lucy’s father was staring at her. “What did you say, Lucy?”

“My coat, papa! This is n’t the one you bought. But it’s brown with a cape, and I ’m sure it ’s the kind that mama wanted. Look at that paper you wrote it down on, and see.”

Lucy’s father thrust his hand into all the pockets of his short light overcoat, then into the inner pockets—but he could not find the old envelop.

“It seems as if everything 1 find is a bill,” he said, smiling apologetically. “I must have left that envelop at home, But that coat does seem more becoming to you than the other. I do believe that is the kind your mother wanted.”

“Why, of course it is, papa!” cried Lucy.

And it was.