And her
Christmas crops were hopelessly backward. At a time when she should
be half done, she could not even begin. She had not tatted or
smeared or hammered a thing.
VI
DESPAIR AND AN IDEA
Days and days went by in a stupor of dull hopelessness. Thanksgiving
came and the Budlong turkey might as well have been a crow. In
desperation she decided to make a tentative exploration of the shops
now burgeoning with Christmas splendor; every window a spasm of
gewgaws. Since she had no time to make, she must buy.
The length of her list sent her to the cheaper counters, but she was
not permitted to browse among them. At Strouther and Streckfuss's, Mr.
Strouther came up and said with reeking unctuousness:
"Vat is Mees Bootlonk doink down here amonkst all this tresh? Come see
our importet novelties."
And he led her to a region where the minimum price was MBBA-BDJA, which
meant that it cost 12.25 and could be safely marked down to 23.75.
She eluded him and got back to the 25-cent realm only to be apprehended
by Mr. Streckfuss, who beamed:
"Ah, nothink is here for a lady like you are. Only fine kvality suits
such a taste you got."
By almost superfeminine strength she evaded purchasing anything. She
went to other shops only to be haled to the expensive counters.
Storekeepers simply would not discuss cheap things with the
millionairess-elect.
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