"Not if you will accept my services, miss," said Caleb, timidly, pushing
away the remaining corks as he spoke, and glancing furtively at his
master.
"How often must I remind you, Caleb Fink," said the owner of the
emporium, "that your sphere is circumscribed to your duties? Attend to
those phials, and drain them well before you bottle the citrate of
magnesia. The last was spoiled by your unpardonable carelessness. I have
not forgotten this!"
And again, with a deprecatory look at me, Caleb Fink subsided into a
nonentity.
"Truly has the great and wise Dr. Perkins remarked that 'the women of
America are suicidal from the cradle to the grave!' I will give you one
of his pamphlets, miss, to take away with you, and you will be convinced
that slippers are serpents in disguise in winter weather! The wooden
shoes of Germany rather! Ay, or even the _sabot_ of France! You must not
stir another step in those. Be seated, pray, and I will not detain you
long, while I procure a substitute or protection for such shams, worth
nothing in such Siberian weather.--Caleb, a word with you;". and he
whispered to his apprentice, who glided away, to return in a trice with
a pair of India-rubber overshoes, into which benign boats he proceeded
to thrust my unresisting feet, as I stood leaning on the counter; after
which a muffler was tied about my ears, and a heavy honey-comb shawl
thrown over my shoulders by the same expeditious hands.
Pages:
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587