The Ekalaka eagle. [volume] (Ekalaka, Mont.) 1909-1920, 1910-02-04

HAVE come to the conclusion that
when I'm in a department store I
am invisible.
Now, you know when a man goes
np to the handkerchief department
and says in fairly strong tones,
please let me look at your slightly
soiled Irish linen real gentlemen's
handkerchiefs at 80 cents a dozen
marked down from SO on cacount OF
stock taking" and the young woman
addressed looks right through him to
she wants, it stands to reason that
the man must be invisible. 1t has hap
pened to me and it really gave me an
uncanny feeling. l hate to go into a
crowd in a department store for fear
that l will become invisible, and then
maybe a pickpocket will go through
me.
But, to drop foolish persiflage,
there's another reason why l feel that
I'm invisible in a department store,
and that is because the young wom-
the young ladies-talk right along as
- >HEy ~ y OCS lilC CNSll IL L SOu5h
and stand on my tiptoes. Now, if l
was looking right at a certain space
and suddenly a cough came out of
that space, and yet l saw no man, I'd
stop talking and begin to SILVER, al
though I'm not superstitiOus; but
the salesladies are evidently quite
used to hearing coughs come from in
visible men, for they go right on, only
pausing to take breath, and sometimes
| blush in my invisibility-by the way,
I'd dearly love to see an invisible
blush-Wonder what color it isl say
| blush because their talk is not only
so intimate, but often so acrimonious.
Now, they say you won't hear acri-
mOnious talk at the higher priced
places, but-you know how it is.
Times aren't what they were a year
or two ago, and if | can get good
handkerchiefs for the washing at six
cents apiece what's the use of going
to a Fifth avenue store where one
hears nothing but the most high-bred
talk and pays for it when he buys his
handkerchiefs?
Besides, in some Of those higher
priced shops there is an air of hau-
teur, a sort of French aristOcracy at
mosphere that chills me SO that for
get what l anne for and am glad to
escape to the more democratic street.
There's no feeling of universal-er-
sisterhood at those swell places. The
young ladies-young princesses, |
should say-glide around nOiselessly
and use the broad a, and their tones
are so chilly that it seems almost an
insult to ask them for 25-cent socks.
And, besides, they always charge SO
cents for them in those places.
No, in the present state Of the mar
ket, and considering my bringing up,
give me cheaper places, even if do
become invisible in them.
Now, the other day l went into a
store to get a pair of mittens-my
hands get real cold in the winter and
| find that mittens are much warmer
than gloves. They say that you can
dress in almost anything in New
York and not attract notice, but when
l put on a silk hat and a sack coat
over a cardigan jacket warmest
thing in the world, a cardigan jacket,
and only a dollar and a half if you
look for bargain-and then draw on
my brown and orange worsted mittens
and walk up on the dollar side of
Fifth avenue, I always feel that
am no longer invisible. Lucky hat
don't care. I'd rather be comfortable
than fashionable.
The other day I was reading Her
bert Spencer's PHILOSOPHY of Style
when a writer dies l always read
just enough of him to be able to talk
Understandings about him, and make
people think l know a heap about him
its so handy at teas, you know.
Well, as I was saying, | was reading
Spencer's PHILOSOPHY Of Style" in a
pocket edition, and l went in to see a
broker friend down in Wall street, one
of those pink-of-fashion men, you
know, and as he was busy l sat down
and read Spencer. When he came out
he saw the book and reaching out he
took it from me and read the title,
PHILOSOPHY of Style
He looked at my high hat and my
cardigan jacket and my mittens and
then he said: Every appropriate. Is
there a chapter on gum shoes?"
glancing at my easy rubbers.
Well, of course, | didn't mind. !
said to him, good-naturedly: well,
Jack, you go in for money and clothes,
but as for me, give me comfort and
brains"