Page 164 - DENG202_ELECTIVE_ENGLISH_III

Unit 12: A Lickpenny Lover by O Henry

When the floorwalker was not looking Masie chewed tutti frutti; when he was looking she Notes
gazed up as if at the clouds and smiled wistfully.
That is the shop girl smile, and I enjoin you to shun it unless you are well fortified with callosity
of the heart, caramels and a congeniality for the capers of Cupid. This smile belonged to Masie’s
recreation hours and not to the store; but the floorwalker must have his own. He is the Shylock
of the stores. When he comes nosing around the bridge of his nose is a toll-bridge. It is goo-goo
eyes or “git” when he looks toward a pretty girl. Of course not all floorwalkers are thus. Only a
few days ago the papers printed news of one over eighty years of age.
One day Irving Carter, painter, millionaire, traveller, poet, automobiles, happened to enter the
Biggest Store. It is due to him to add that his visit was not voluntary. Filial duty took him by the
collar and dragged him inside, while his mother philandered among the bronze and terra-cotta
statuettes.
Carter strolled across to the glove counter in order to shoot a few minutes on the wing. His need
for gloves was genuine; he had forgotten to bring a pair with him. But his action hardly calls for
apology, because he had never heard of glove-counter flirtations.
As he neared the vicinity of his fate he hesitated, suddenly conscious of this unknown phase of
Cupid’s less worthy profession.
Three or four cheap fellows, sonorously garbed, were leaning over the counters, wrestling with
the editorial hand-coverings, while giggling girls played vivacious second to their lead upon
the strident string of coquetry. Carter would have retreated, but he had gone too far. Masie
confronted him behind her counter with a questioning look in eyes as coldly, beautifully,
warmly blue as the glint of summer sunshine on an iceberg drifting in Southern seas.
And then Irving Carter, painter, millionaire, etc., felt a warm flush rise to his aristocratically
pale face. But not from diffidence. The blush was intellectual in origin. He knew in a moment
that he stood in the ranks of the ready-made youths who wooed the giggling girls at other
counters. Himself leaned against the oaken trysting place of a cockney Cupid with a desire in his
heart for the favour of a glove salesgirl. He was no more than Bill and Jack and Mickey. And then
he felt a sudden tolerance for them, and an elating, courageous contempt for the conventions
upon which he had fed, and an unhesitating determination to have this perfect creature for his
own.
When the gloves were paid for and wrapped Carter lingered for a moment. The dimples at the
corners of Masie’s damask mouth deepened. All gentlemen who bought gloves lingered in just
that way. She curved an arm, showing like Psyche’s through her shirt-waist sleeve, and rested an
elbow upon the show-case edge.

Carter had never before encountered a situation of which he had not been perfect master. But
now he stood far more awkward than Bill or Jack or Mickey. He had no chance of meeting this
beautiful girl socially. His mind struggled to recall the nature and habits of shop girls as he had
read or heard of them. Somehow he had received the idea that they sometimes did not insist too
strictly upon the regular channels of introduction. His heart beat loudly at the thought of
proposing an unconventional meeting with this lovely and virginal being. But the tumult in his
heart gave him courage.
After a few friendly and well-received remarks on general subjects, he laid his card by her hand
on the counter.

“Will you please pardon me,” he said, “if I seem too bold; but I earnestly hope you will allow me
the pleasure of seeing you again. There is my name; I assure you that it is with the greatest
respect that I ask the favour of becoming one of your fr – acquaintances. May I not hope for the
privilege?”

LOVELY PROFESSIONAL UNIVERSITY 159