them. I don't know his number,' The other woman did know her husband's shirt size and carried them off in triumph."
When the laughter had subsided, Mrs. Moore continued her story.
"At another bargain counter we looked at silver-plated breakfast knives, as I needed to renew my set. Half a dozen knives put up in a fancy box, lined with cheap, cotton-back satin, were offered to us at one dollar and ninety-eight cents. I looked at the mark, 'Superfine, triple-plate,' That was all. In the regular silver department, we asked for and were shown, at three dollars and ninety-eight cents per half dozen, breakfast knives made by a responsible firm which spends hundreds of thousands of dollars every year advertising its wares. There was no fancy box, no showy silk, but a trademark. The salesgirl explained that, while no actual guarantee went with the knives, they were supposed to last fifteen to twenty years, with reasonable treatment. If within a few years after the date of purchase the customer returned a knife in bad condition, and could prove that she had not used scouring
