girls and their well-groomed companions of the "Assembly Ball" set
liked to stop in there for their rings, brooches, scarf pins or cuff
links, and very frequent were the rather languid orders:

"You may send it, charge."

It was to that class of trade that Mrs. Darcy catered. She understood
it, and it understood her. That was enough. She took a personal
interest in the business to the extent of being in the store almost
every day, as her husband had been before her, to advise and be
available for consultation, whether it was the buying of a gold
teething ring for the newest member of the family, an engagement ring
for the latest debutante, a watch for "son," attaining his majority, or
perhaps new gold glasses for grandpapa or grandmama.

The store was not a large one, and four clerks, one a young woman, with
James Darcy and an assistant, who looked after the repair work and made
anything unusual in the way of pins or rings, constituted the force.
But Mrs. Darcy was as good as a clerk herself, and during the holiday
rush she was in the store night and day. This was the easier for her,
since she owned the building in which her display was kept, and lived
in a quiet and tastefully furnished apartment over the store.

On the death of her husband, she had sent for his second cousin, who at
that time was in the employ of a well-known New York jewelry house, and
he agreed to come to her.

Rather more than a repair man and clerk was James Darcy. He was an
expert jewelry designer and a setter of precious stones; and often,
when some fastidious customer did not seem to care for what was shown