"
Miss Jocund was a large-featured woman of a grave and wise countenance.
She read the newspaper in intervals of business, and was reading it now
with her glasses on. Lowering the paper, she recognized a favorite
customer in Mrs. Stokes, and laid the news by, but with reluctance. Duty
forbade, however, that this lady should be remitted to an assistant.
"I am sorry to disturb you, Miss Jocund, but it is important--it is
about a bonnet," cried Mrs. Stokes gayly. "I have brought you Miss
Fairfax of Abbotsmead. I am sure you will make her something quite
lovely."
Miss Jocund took off her glasses, and gave Bessie a deliberate,
discerning look-over. "Very happy, ma'am, indeed. Blue, of course?" she
said. Bessie acquiesced. "Any taste, any style?" the milliner further
queried.
"Yes. Give me always simplicity and no imitations," was the
unhesitating, concise reply.
"Miss Fairfax and I understand one another. Anything more to-day,
ladies?" Bessie and Mrs. Stokes considered for a moment, and then said
they would not detain Miss Jocund any longer from her newspaper. "Ah,
ladies! who can exist altogether on _chiffons_?" rejoined the milliner,
half apologetically. "I do love my _Times_--I call it my 'gentleman.' I
cannot live without my gentleman. Yes, ladies, he does smell of tobacco.
That is because he spends a day and night in the bar-parlor of the
Shakespeare Tavern before he visits me. So do evil communications
corrupt good manners.
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