By SOPHIE KERR
From Saturday Evening Post
The big department store so terrified Wesley Dean that he got no farther than five steps
beyond the entrance. Crowds of well-dressed ladies milling round like cattle, the noise of
many feminine voices, the excessive warmth and the heady odour of powder and
perfume--the toilet goods were grouped very near the door--all combined to bewilder and
frighten him. He got out before the floorwalker of the centre aisle could so much as ask
him what he wanted.
Once outside he stood in the spring wind and meditated. There must be other stores in
Baltimore, little ones, where a man could buy things in quiet and decency. Until the four-
o'clock motor stage started for Frederick he had nothing to do.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and started down the crowded crookedness of
Lexington Street. He reached the market and strolled through it leisurely, feeling very
much at home with the meats and vegetables and the good country look of many of the
stall keepers. Its size amazed him; but then he'd always heard that Baltimore was a big
city, and so many people must take a lot to eat. He went on, all the way through, and after
a little hesitation struck down a quiet street to the right. But he saw no shops of the sort
he was looking for, and he had thoughts of going back and braving the big store again.
He turned again and again, pleased by the orderly rows of red-brick-with-white-trim
houses, homey-looking places in spite of their smallness and close setting. At last, right
in the middle of a row of these, he saw a large window set in place of the two usual
smaller ones, a window filled with unmistakable feminine stuff, and the sign, small,
neatly gilt lettered: Miss Tolman's Ladies' Shop. Hemstitching Done.
There wasn't a soul going in or out, so he braved it, and was happier still when he found
himself the sole customer. The opening of the door made a bell tinkle in a back room.
A girl came through parted green wool curtains, a girl so flaxen-haired, with such blue
eyes--like a friendly kitten--that Wesley Dean almost forgot the errand that had brought
him so far.
As for the girl, she was surprised to see a man, and particularly a young country man,
among the gloves and stockings, cheap pink underthings, and embroideries of Miss
Tolman's shop.
"You got any--any aprons?" he stammered.
"White aprons or gingham?" The girl's smile helped Wesley a great deal. A very nice girl,
he decided; but she made him feel queer, light-headed.
