Karen made an involuntary movement of protest, but before she could order him off the rug Alexander shook his head vehemently, producing one eye that fixed itself on Karen with the clearest message she had ever seen in a single optic. She stepped back. Alexander wriggled into a comfortable position and began to snore.

Annoyed as she was by the dog's air of aristocratic hauteur, an air that accorded strangely with his distinctly plebeian appearance, Karen was also amused. Alexander had good taste. Perhaps the elegance of the room appealed to him. When Ruth was at home there were always flowers in the big silver bowls, according to the seasons-tulips and narcissus followed by lilac and sprays of dogwood, then roses and baby's breath, and, to round out the year, great bunches of chrysanthemums in the pink and lavender shades Ruth favored.

The dog's snores were rather soothing. I'll make up his bed for him later, in the kitchen, Karen told herself. In her heart of hearts she knew she had already lost the fight. Alexander had chosen his place and there he would stay. She would probably find herself arranging flowers in the silver bowls, to please his aristocratic tastes.

The soft chime of the clock on the landing reminded her that she was late. She hurried upstairs, tugging at the belt of her dress. Julie had grudgingly given her a few hours off so she could accompany Mrs. Mac to the airport, but this was Julie's last day; she was leaving for New England that evening, and for the next two weeks Karen would be in charge of the shop.

Alexander was still asleep when she left the house, feeling decidedly self-conscious in the vintage dress Julie had insisted she wear. It was an Edwardian afternoon gown, formal enough for a modern wedding, with a high, boned collar and a semi-train edged with lace. Karen had spent much of her spare time that week washing and ironing and mending and altering the dress. It was still too tight, but, she thought hopefully, not quite as tight as it had been when she first tried it on. One of Julie's customers was coming in from Potomac to see the dress and the other gowns Karen carried, chastely enclosed in a garment bag.

Karen had to give Julie credit. It was decent of her to let an employee use the premises to sell her own merchandise. Not that Julie's motives were entirely altruistic. She got her cut. Besides, Mrs. Mac had graciously allowed Julie to acquire a few bits of bric-a-brac, china, and crystal. Julie hoped for more-much, much more. It had been her idea that Karen should model her wares whenever possible, and Karen had been forced to agree that it never hurt to advertise.

In fact, she attracted less attention than she had expected. Georgetown was blase about unusual costumes. A few people stared, and one girl stopped her to ask where she had bought the dress. So Julie was right, Karen thought; one potential customer in a three-block walk wasn't bad.

Her positive mood didn't last, though; Julie's behavior that afternoon would have driven a saint to homicide. She showered Karen with instructions as confused as they were impossible to carry out; and when, for the sixth or seventh time, she clutched her flyaway hair and moaned, "Oh, God, I must be crazy to leave town!" Karen's temper snapped.

"Then don't. Lord knows I've got enough to do without running your business for you!"

"Oh, sweetie, don't pay any attention to me," Julie cried. "You know how I am-"

"To my sorrow. You don't even need me, Rob could handle things here. And if an emergency should arise, you're only a few hours away."

"Don't you dare call unless it's a real emergency." Julie's eyes took on a faraway look. "I have a really interesting two weeks planned, if you know what I mean."

"Nothing will go wrong," Karen said. "Why don't you leave right now? You aren't accomplishing anything except driving both of us up the wall."

"And me," came a voice from the rear of the shop. "Listening to you two screaming at each other is absolutely shattering my nerves. I shall burst into tears if I hear one more unkind word."

Julie paid no attention to this pathetic speech. She glanced at her watch. "I can't leave until Mrs. Schwarz comes, she'd be horribly offended. Damn the woman, where is she? She said three, and it's already three-thirty."

Mrs. Schwarz arrived at 4:10, apologizing and complaining about the traffic on the bridge. It was a handy excuse for anyone coming into the District, because it was usually true.

She shrieked with rapture at Karen's dress and asked to try it on. Karen complied, though one look at Mrs. Schwarz's comfortable contours convinced her the customer hadn't a prayer of getting into the dress. She did get into it, with a great deal of assistance from Julie and Karen, and the collapse of only one side seam. However, the dress refused to meet at the back.

Mrs. Schwarz said wistfully, "Perhaps if I wore a tighter girdle…"

"I'm afraid not," Karen said, looking at the six-inch gap.

"You couldn't let it out?"

"I've let it out as far as it will go." Karen added, "I shouldn't wear it either; it was made for a girl with a tiny waist and hardly any bust. You know, it's impossible to wear clothing like this if it's even the teeniest bit too small. The fabric is old and fragile, and the styles weren't designed for active women."

"I suppose you're right." Mrs. Schwarz was appeased by the tactful phrase "teeniest bit too small," though it most certainly did not apply in her case. "Oh, well, such is life. I hope I haven't damaged the dress, dear. If I have, I'll be happy to pay-"

"No, that's all right," Karen said, carefully skinning the dress over Mrs. Schwarz's head. "One of the seams gave a little, that's all. I just basted it."

"Oh, you do your own alterations? That's nice to know. I must tell my friends about you."

Mrs. Schwarz bought one of the other dresses, a turn-of-the-century day dress of gold linen, hand-embroidered at the neck and hem. After she had departed in triumph, promising a return visit when Karen had more clothes ready, Karen stared in disbelief at Mrs. Schwarz's check. It was made out for two hundred and fifty dollars.

"I wouldn't have dared ask that much," she exclaimed. "I must say, Julie, I admire your nerve."

"You won't get prices like that out in the boonies," Julie said sourly. "That's fifty you owe me. I ought to get more, actually, since I set the price, but since it's you…"

"She must be crazy," Karen said. "The dress didn't even look good on her."

"That may be your opinion and it may be mine, but I suggest you keep such opinions to yourself. And remember, don't accept a check from anyone except the people on that list I gave you. Not even if the customer arrives in a chauffeur-driven Mercedes and is swathed in mink. Some of the richest people are the biggest crooks."

"I remember."

"And if I find a charge that hasn't been okayed, I'll take it out of your salary."

"All right, all right!"

Julie wrung her hands. "Oh, God! I must be mad to do this!"