went out on Broadway. I was thoroughly sick of red calico. But I determined to make one more trial. My wife had bought her red calico not long before, and there must be some to be had somewhere. I ought to have asked her where she bought it, but I thought a simple little thing like that could be bought anywhere.
I went into another large dry-goods store. As I entered the door a sudden tremor seized me. I could not bear to take out that piece of red calico. If I had had any other kind of a rag about me—a pen-wiper or any thing of the sort—I think I would have asked them if they could match that.
But I stepped up to a young woman and presented my sample, with the usual question.
"Back room, counter on the left," she said.
I went there.
"Have you any red calico like this?" I asked of the lady behind the counter.
"No, sir," she said, "but we have it in Turkey red."
Turkey red again! I surrendered.
"All right," I said, "give me Turkey red."
"How much, sir?" she asked.
"I don't know—say five yards."
The lady looked at me rather strangely, but measured off five yards of Turkey red calico. Then she rapped on the counter and called out "cash!" A little girl, with yellow hair in two long plaits, came slowly up. The lady wrote the number of yards, the name of the goods, her own number, the price, the amount of the bank-note I handed her, and some other
