In the store, however, philosophy was laid aside.A kind of intoxication possessed him.Never before had old Mr.Beagle (watching delightedly from the mezzanine balcony) seen such a floorwalker.Gissing moved to and fro exulting in the great tide of shopping.He knew all the best customers by name and had learned their peculiarities.If a shower came up and Mrs.Mastiff was just leaving, he hastened to give her his arm as far as her limousine, boosting her in so expeditiously that not a drop of wetness fell upon her.He took care to find out the special plat du jour of the store's lunch room, and seized occasion to whisper to Mrs.Dachshund, whose weakness was food, that the filet of sole was very nice to-day.Mrs.Pomeranian learned that giving Gissing a hint about some new Parisian importations was more effective than a half page ad.in the Sunday papers.Within a few hours, by a judicious word here and there, he would have a score of ladies hastening to the millinery salon.A pearl necklace of great value, which Mr.Beagle had rebuked the jewellery buyer for getting, because it seemed more appropriate for a dealer in precious stones than for a department store, was disposed of almost at once.Gissing casually told Mrs.Mastiff that he had heard Mrs.Sealyham intended to buy it.As for Mrs.Dachshund, who had had a habit of lunching at Delmonico's, she now was to be seen taking tiffin at Beagle's almost daily.There were many husbands who would have been glad to shoot him at sight on the first ofthe month, had they known who was the real cause of their woe.
Indeed, Gissing had raised floorwalking to a new level.He was more prime minister than a mere patroller of aisles.With sparkling eye, with unending curiosity, tact, and attention, he moved quietly among the throng.He realized that shopping is the female paradise; that spending money she has not earned is the only real fun an elderly and wealthy lady can have; and if to this primitive shopping passion can be added the delights of social amenity--flattery, courtesy, good-humoured flirtation--the snare is complete.
But all this is not accomplished without rousing the jealousy of rivals.Among the other floorwalkers, and particularly in the gorgeously uniformed attendant at the front door (who was outraged by Gissing's habit of escorting special customers to their motors) moved anger, envy, and sneers.Gissing, completely absorbed in the fascination of his work, was unaware of this hostility, as he was equally unaware of the amazed satisfaction of his employer.He went his way with naive and unconscious pleasure.It did not take long for his enemies to find a fulcrum for their chagrin.One evening, after closing, when he sat in the dressing room, with his feet in the usual tub of hot water, placidly reviewing the day's excitements and smoking his pipe, the superintendent burst in.
"Hey!" he exclaimed."Don't you know smoking's forbidden? What do you want to do, get our fire insurance cancelled? Get out of here! You're fired!"It did not occur to Gissing to question or protest.He had known perfectly well that smoking was not allowed.But he was like the stage hand behind the scenes who concluded it was all right to light a cigarette because the sign only said SMOKING FORBIDDEN, instead of SMOKING STRICTLY FORBIDDEN.He had not troubled his mind about it, one way or about it, one way or another.
He had drawn his salary that evening, and his first thought was, Well, at any rate I've earned enough to pay for the clothes.He had been there exactly four weeks.Quite calmly, he lifted his feet out of the tub and began to towel them daintily.The meticulous way he dried between his toes was infuriating to the superintendent.
"Have you any children?" Gissing asked, mildly."What's that to you?" snapped the other.
"I'll sell you this bathtub for a quarter.Take it home to them.They probably need it.""You get out of here!" cried the angry official.
"You'd be surprised," said Gissing, "how children thrive when they're bathed regularly.Believe me, I know."He packed his formal clothes in a neat bundle, left the bathtub behind, surrendered his locker key, and walked toward the employees' door, escorted by his bristling superior.As they passed through the empty aisles, scene of his brief triumph, he could not help gazing a little sadly.True merchant to the last, a thought struck him He scribbled a note on the back of a sales slip' and left it at Miss Whippet's post by the stocking counter.It said:--MISS WHIPPET: Show Mrs.Sealyham some of the bisque sports hose, Scotch wool, size 9.She's coming to-morrow.Don't let her get size 8 1/2.They shrink.MR.GISSING.
At the door he paused, relit his pipe leisurely, raised his hat to the superintendent, and strolled away.
In spite of this nonchalance, the situation was serious.His money was at a low ebb.All his regular income was diverted to the support of the large household in the country.He was too proud to appeal to his wealthy uncle.He hated also to think of Mrs.Purp's mortification if she learned that her star boarder was out of work.By a curious irony, when he got home he found a letter from Mrs.Spaniel:--MR.GISHING, dere friend, the pupeys are well, no insecks, and eat with nives and forx Groups is the fattest but Yelpers is the lowdest they send wags and lix and glad to here Daddy is doing so well in buisness with respects from MRS.SPANIEL.
He did not let Mrs.Purp know of the change in his condition, and every morning left his lodging at the usual time.By some curious attraction he felt drawn to that downtown region where his kinsman's office was.This part of the city he had not properly explored.
