face--she was a tall woman with a big bust, big hips and the big
head all right, and she wore her long-train black rig for all the
world like a Cruelty girl who had stolen the matron's skirt to
"play lady" in. I got behind little Mrs. Bishop, and looking
out over her head, I tapped my forehead significantly.

The saleswoman tumbled. That was all right. But so did the
Bishop's wife; for she turned and caught me at it.

"You shall not save me from myself and what I deserve," she cried.
"I am perfectly sane and you know it, and you are doing me no favor
in trying to create the contrary impression. I demand an--"

"An interview with the manager," I interrupted. "I'm sure Mrs.
Van Wagenen can see the manager. Just go with the lady, Mrs. Van
Wagenen, and I'll follow with the goods."

She did it meek as a lamb, talking all the time, but never
beginning at the beginning--luckily for me. So that I had time to
slip from one dressing-room to the next, with the lace up my
sleeve, out to the elevator, and down into the street.

D'ye know what heaven must be, Mag? A place where you always get
away with the swag, and where it's always just the minute after
you've made a killing.

Cocky? Well, I should say I was. I was drunk enough with success
to take big chances. And just while I was wishing for something
really big to tackle, it came along in the shape of that big
floor-walker!