“Anything less likely to make your shop a fashionable shopping centre I can’t imagine,” said the artist, with a very genuine shudder; “if I were trying to decide between the merits of Carlsbad plums and confected figs as a winter dessert it would infuriate me to have my train of thought entangled with little Beatrice’s resolve to be an Angel of Light or a girl scout. No,” he continued, “the desire to get something thrown in for nothing is a ruling passion with the feminine shopper, but you can’t afford to pander effectively to it. Why not appeal to another instinct; which dominates not only the woman shopper but the male shopper⁠—in fact, the entire human race?”

“What is that instinct, sir?” said the grocer.

Mrs. Greyes and Miss Fritten had missed the 2:18 to town, and as there was not another train till 3:12 they thought that they might as well make their grocery purchases at Scarrick’s. It would not be sensational, they agreed, but it would still be shopping.