By Kate Chopin
Little Mrs. Sommers one day found herself the unexpectedpossessor of fifteen dollars. It seemed to her a very largeamount of money， and the way in which it stuffed and bulgedher worn old porte-monnaie gave her a feeling of importancesuch as she had not enjoyed for years.
The question of investment was one that occupied hergreatly. For a day or two she walked about apparentlyin a dreamy state， but really absorbed in speculation andcalculation. She did not wish to act hastily， to do anything shemight afterward regret. But it was during the still hours of thenight when she lay awake revolving plans in her mind that sheseemed to see her way clearly toward a proper and judicioususe of the money.
A dollar or two should be added to the price usually paid forJanie’s shoes， which would insure their lasting an appreciabletime longer than they usually did. She would buy so and somany yards of percale for new shirt waists for the boys andJanie and Mag. She had intended to make the old ones doby skilful patching. Mag should have another gown. Shehad seen some beautiful patterns， veritable bargains in theshop windows. And still there would be left enough for newstockings—two pairs apiece—and what darning that wouldsave for a while！ She would get caps for the boys and sailorhatsfor the girls. The vision of her little brood looking freshand dainty and new for once in their lives excited her andmade her restless and wakeful with anticipation.
The neighbors sometimes talked of certain “better days” thatlittle Mrs. Sommers had known before she had ever thought ofbeing Mrs. Sommers. She herself indulged in no such morbidretrospection. She had no time—no second of time to devote tothe past. The needs of the present absorbed her every faculty.
A vision of the future like some dim， gaunt monster sometimesappalled her， but luckily tomorrow never comes.
Mrs. Sommers was one who knew the value of bargains；who could stand for hours making her way inch by inch towardthe desired object that was selling below cost. She could elbowher way if need be； she had learned to clutch a piece of goodsand hold it and stick to it with persistence and determinationtill her turn came to be served， no matter when it came.
But that day she was a little faint and tired. She hadswallowed a light luncheon—no！ when she came to thinkof it， between getting the children fed and the place righted，and preparing herself for the shopping bout， she had actuallyforgotten to eat any luncheon at all！
She sat herself upon a revolving stool before a counterthat was comparatively deserted， trying to gather strengthand courage to charge through an eager multitude that wasbesieging breastworks of shirting and figured lawn. An allgonelimp feeling had come over her and she rested her handaimlessly upon the counter. She wore no gloves. By degreesshe grew aware that her hand had encountered somethingvery soothing， very pleasant to touch. She looked down to seethat her hand lay upon a pile of silk stockings. A placard nearby announced that they had been reduced in price from twodollars and fifty cents to one dollar and ninety-eight cents； anda young girl who stood behind the counter asked her if shewished to examine their line of silk hosiery. She smiled， justas if she had been asked to inspect a tiara of diamonds withthe ultimate view of purchasing it. But she went on feeling thesoft， sheeny luxurious things—with both hands now， holdingthem up to see them glisten， and to feel them glide serpent-likethrough her fingers.
Two hectic blotches came suddenly into her pale cheeks. Shelooked up at the girl.
“Do you think there are any eights-and-a-half among these？”
There were any number of eights-and-a-half. In fact， therewere more of that size than any other. Here was a light-blue pair；there were some lavender， some all black and various shades oftan and gray. Mrs. Sommers selected a black pair and looked atthem very long and closely. She pretended to be examining theirtexture， which the clerk assured her was excellent.
“A dollar and ninety-eight cents，” she mused aloud. “Well，I’ll take this pair.” She handed the girl a five-dollar bill andwaited for her change and for her parcel. What a very smallparcel it was！ It seemed lost in the depths of her shabby oldshopping-bag.
Mrs. Sommers after that did not move in the direction of thebargain counter. She took the elevator， which carried her to anupper floor into the region of the ladies’ waiting-rooms. Here，in a retired corner， she exchanged her cotton stockings for thenew silk ones which she had just bought. She was not goingthrough any acute mental process or reasoning with herself，nor was she striving to explain to her satisfaction the motive ofher action. She was not thinking at all. She seemed for the timeto be taking a rest from that laborious and fatiguing functionand to have abandoned herself to some mechanical impulsethat directed her actions and freed her of responsibility.
