Belles on their Toes

Ernestine's list, "five suits, fifteen neckties, twenty suits of underwear, twenty-five pairs of socks, twenty shirts, and five pairs of shoes."
    "Yes, Madam," smiled the salesman. It was a big, sincere smile, which was fortunate, because it was his last until the boys departed, and possibly his last for a matter of weeks.
    "Do they let him play that radio when he's supposed to be working?" Dan asked Mother.
    "That's not a radio, dear," said Mother, who was embarrassed but believed in answering all questions from the floor. "It's a hearing aid. So of course, it's not polite to talk about it."
    "Oh, I'm sorry," said Dan, and then whispering, "What's a hearing aid?"
    "He's a little deaf, dear," Mother whispered back. "So don't say anything more about it."
    "What did she say?" Fred and Jack whispered to Dan.
    "Deaf as a doornail," Dan whispered back. "Don't make him feel bad about it."
    "If you fellows will step this way," said the salesman, "I think we can find something."
    "We don't want to pay more than $17.50 for the suits," said Bill, who had been coached by the girls. "And we want them with two pairs of knickers."
    Fred nudged Bill and whispered: "Deaf."
    "We don't want to pay more than $17.50 for the suits," Bill shouted, as loud as he could.
    "I know you don't, Sonny," the salesman said patiently. "I heard you. You don't really have to shout."
    "I'm sorry," said Bill, glaring at Fred.
    "Look, fellows," the man said. "It's all right about the hearing aid. Lots of boys ask about it. I'm going to show you how it works."
    He explained that he kept dry cell batteries in his hip pocket, and showed the boys the volume-control rheostat in the side pocket of his coat.
    "Now let's get down to business, fellows," he said, swinging out a rack of clothes. He turned to Mother. "We have a special sale on this group, Madam."
    "How much?" said Bill.
    "These have been marked down from $30," the salesman continued, ignoring Bill, "and they're a real buy. Madam."
    "How much?" said Bill.
    "They're $19.50," he admitted, glaring.
    "I'm afraid that's too much, sir," Bill said. "We want something cheaper."
    "I don't know, dear," Mother put in. "We might look at them, and see whether you like them."
    "We don't like them," Bill shook his head. "Ernestine might not object too much, but Martha would holler. She made us promise."
    "I guess you're right," Mother agreed.
    "Ernestine?" asked the salesman. "Martha?"
    "Ern's chairman of the purchasing committee, and Mart's in charge of the budget," Bill told him.
    "I see," said the salesman, who obviously didn't, but thought it best not to pursue the subject any further.
    He pulled out another rack. "These are $17," he said. "Marked down from $25. What colors did you have in mind, Madam?"
    "I think we'll just let the boys pick them out," Mother smiled. "If you don't mind, would you be good enough to start with Bill—he's the biggest one; the blond."
    "What color did you have in mind, young man?"
    "I don't think the color will matter," Bill said.
    "What kind of cloth, then?"
    "I don't care about that, either. I want the kind that has buckles on the bottom of the knickers that will keep your stockings up."
    The salesman looked in mute appeal at Mother, who had found a chair and was working on her crocheting.
    "That seems sensible, dear," she said without looking up. "The legs of your last pair wouldn't stay up at all, would they?"
    "The points on the buckle bent out of shape the first week," Bill complained. "Worst suit I ever had."
    Bill went through the rack, tried on three or four suits that didn't pass the buckle test, and at last found a gray, belted model that seemed just right.
    "I like this one," he said, turning around so Mother could see whether it fit.
    "It fits him almost exactly," said the salesman, who was beginning to perspire a little from taking down suits and hanging them up.
    Mother felt the material. "I think it's fine, dear. It should wear well, and it seems well made. It's mighty handsome, too."
    The salesman was obviously relieved.
    "Shall I have it wrapped?" he asked.
    "Not just yet," Bill told him. "Is it all right with you, Fred?"
    Fred came over, looked at it, felt it, and studied the buckles.
    "Okay with me," Fred agreed.
    "Does everybody have to approve it?" asked the salesman, who was becoming a little bewildered. "Are we going to have to have a vote on each suit?" he appealed to Mother.
    "Oh, no," Mother assured him.
    "Just this little fellow here?" the salesman