The formidable benevolence with which he enquired what he
could do for her made her almost despair of explaining herself; but
she finally disentangled from a flurry of wrong beginnings the
request to be shown to the clock-department.

The gentleman considered her thoughtfully. "May I ask what
style of clock you are looking for? Would it be for a wedding-
present, or--?"

The irony of the allusion filled Ann Eliza's veins with sudden
strength. "I don't want to buy a clock at all. I want to see the
head of the department."

"Mr. Loomis?" His stare still weighed her--then he seemed to
brush aside the problem she presented as beneath his notice. "Oh,
certainly. Take the elevator to the second floor. Next aisle to
the left." He waved her down the endless perspective of show-
cases.

Ann Eliza followed the line of his lordly gesture, and a swift
ascent brought her to a great hall full of the buzzing and booming
of thousands of clocks. Whichever way she looked, clocks stretched
away from her in glittering interminable vistas: clocks of all
sizes and voices, from the bell-throated giant of the hallway to
the chirping dressing-table toy; tall clocks of mahogany and brass
with cathedral chimes; clocks of bronze, glass, porcelain, of every
possible size, voice and configuration; and between their serried
ranks, along the polished floor of the aisles, moved the languid
forms of other gentlemanly floor-walkers, waiting for their duties
to begin.