Читать книгу General Impressions - Edmée Elizabeth Monica Dashwood - Страница 14

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First General Impression—which subsequently, one regrets to say, has to be modified—that the usual jokes as to the resemblance between a Sale and a Football Scrum are now completely démodés; an almost sinister politeness prevailing amongst those present. (There are, as usual, about a hundred customers to one sales-lady.)

1ST PERFECT STRANGER. Excuse me—I'm afraid this is your piece of net?

2ND P. S. Oh, it doesn't matter at all. I was really only looking at it.

General Impression that she must—judging from the condition of the piece of net—have been looking at it with both hands, and a strong set of teeth.

AN EXPERIENCED SALES-GOER. I'll take the navy coat and skirt in the window marked three guineas, and the red evening cloak in the same window, and half a dozen of these towels and three of the shop-soiled Hose Bargains in the Ladies' Wovens on the second floor, please. Would you kindly get down the Wovens at once, please, while I look after these other things?

(The result of this masterly firmness is that she is at once attended to, and moreover places her purchases upon the only chair visible anywhere in the vicinity, and sits down upon them.)

An Inexperienced Sales-goer, on the other hand, is left repeating timidly at intervals: I wonder if I might trouble you to let me look at a hat in one of the windows, please?—without receiving the slightest notice from anybody at all.

In the Millinery Department. Briskness, almost amounting to violence, prevails.

A MATRON. But these are all so drab. What's the scarlet one, over there? Or that little gold turban?

THE SALES-LADY. The Turban is one of the very newest models from Paris, moddam. The scarlet one, by rights, oughtn't to be in the sale at all—but it's just one of those daring little chapeaux that scarcely a dozen people could wear, if you know what I mean, moddam.

Presumption is that moddam does know what she means, as she instantly wedges the scarlet hat on to the extreme back of her large, respectable-looking head, and gazes at the result in the mirror with excited hopefulness.

THE MATRON. You wouldn't call it too vivid, would you?

THE SALES-LADY (registering scandalized astonishment). Vivid, moddam? That little hat vivid? Oh, moddam, it's the colour, just now. Why, it's positively macabre, I assure you, compared to what's being worn in Paris, just now.

General Impression, not to be avoided, that this may or may not be true, but that this particular Sales-lady has never in her life been nearer to Paris than the Hammersmith Palais de Danse.

A DETERMINED VOICE. I beg your pardon—but I've already Decided on this Hat.

A LESS DETERMINED VOICE. Excuse me, but——

THE D. V. I'm really very sorry, but you should have been quicker. The moment I saw that hat, I made up my mind. I always make up my mind very quickly, I'm afraid, and I knew At Once, that was My Hat.

THE LESS D. V. But I'm afraid it's mine. I——

THE D. V. Please don't let's have any unpleasantness. I assure you that I'm one of those people who never argue. I'm not at all annoyed, I assure you, but it's quite useless to argue. If you'd seen the hat first, I should have been the first person to ask you to take it——

THE LESS D. V. But I must take it. I brought it here. It's the hat I came in, and I only took it off to try on another hat.

Just about an hour after the official closing-time: Collection of Young Ladies now transformed by means of coats, hats, and the absence of Floor-Walkers, into ordinary Young Londoners, preparing to go home.

"I thought we'd never get rid of that last old trout! You'd have thought she'd see the place was practically closed."

"Coo, what price my feet to-night? Red-hot, they are."

"Worse by the end of the week, dear!"

"That boy's waiting for you again, outside the side entrance, Lily."

"Good-night, all. Sorry I can't offer you a lift in the Rolls, but my shovver's got the influenza, and so I shall be taking the Tube...."

General Impression that there's Nothing Like a Joke to Brighten Things Up a Bit.