DescriptionJust a quick little story I come up with from a Dash.
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Fred and Janet got out of the car and entered the antiques shop located on the ground floor of a stylish Tudor-styled building. They were just outside of Providence, RI. They entered the building and began browsing. They had furnished two of their rooms in their home, the dining room and the parlor, in the style of 18th and 19th century Americana found in New England. Now they had begun furnishing the den. They had found a wonderful desk in Maine and were looking for objects to populate it. The couple began to browse. Janet gasped at the selection of antiques; Fred merely smiled. "May I help you?" the man asked as he approached the couple. "I am Jenkin Stuart, the proprietor. Perhaps I can help you find what you need." Janet went on to describe their home furnishing project and that they were now working on the den. They were looking for objects for the desk as well as bookshelves. Janet did the talking and Fred walked about the shop looking. "Over here, honey," Fred shouted. Janet crossed the showroom to her husband. "Ah, yes, indeed," Jenkin Stuart said. Then he sneezed and blew his nose. "There is a nice collection of quill pens and inkhorns there. Of course, there are no antique quill pens anymore. Goose feathers do decompose. But the inkhorns hold ink." And Jenkin Stuart sneezed and blew his nose again. "This one is quite nice," Janet said. "Oh, yes," Jenkin Stuart picked up the piece to show her. "Made from the horn of a cow. And the wooden brace allows you to put up to eight quill pens in it. This horn also does hold quite a bit of ink." And he sneezed and blew his nose some more. Janet looked at another, which also had a brace that held three pens. This one was a bit more practical if one was going to put ink in it and use it. "How much for this one?" Janet asked. "$275.00." "We'll take it! It is so lovely!" "It is tortoise shell," Jenkin Stuart added. He sneezed again and blew his nose again. "Sorry, I've got a bad cold. Allow me to box and wrap it for you." Fred and Janet left with their purchase, as pleased as could be. "He has got one nasty cold," Fred said. "All that sneezing and nose blowing was making me nervous." Janet said nothing. She only smiled. She loved the inkhorn. Meanwhile, back at the shop, Jenkin Stuart took the first inkhorn the couple looked at, opened it, and spilled some white powder on the desk. He took a razor and made it into a smooth line. Then he rolled up a crisp ten-dollar bill and inhaled.