Beck Center English Dept. University Libraries Emory University
Emory Women Writers Resource Project Collections:
Emory Women Writers Resource Project

The Shop-Girl, an electronic edition

by C.N. Williamson [Williamson, C.N. (Charles Norris), 1859-1920]

by A.M. Williamson [Williamson, A.M. (Alice Muriel Livingston), 1869-1933]

date: 1916
source publisher: Methuen & Co., Ltd.
collection: Genre Fiction

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CHAPTER XVIII
THE BIG BLUFF

LILY LEAVITT'S gratitude was immense. She was a changed girl from that moment. Not that she ceased to like Earl Usher, who awkwardly resented her overtures and was boyishly ashamed of them, but her jealousy seemed, after the handing over of Mr. Logan, to lose its bitterness.

She no longer glared and talked "at" Miss Child, asking if she "wore her hair that way for a bet," and "why some people wanted to take up all the room clerking in stores when they could get better money doing giantess stunts in a Bowery show?" Instead she did her best to make friends with Win and her smart little watch-dog, Sadie Kirk.

She brought them presents of hothouse fruit and chocolates, which Win refused and Sadie nonchalantly accepted, wondering "where the Leavitt creature picked 'em up. They didn't grow on blackberry-bushes, no fear. And she wasn't going to let 'em spoil!"

As the desperate days before Christmas raged furiously on Win was still unable to guess Mr. Meggison's real motive for putting her into the toy department. Her duties were more exhausting than they had been down-stairs. That suggested penance. On the other hand, they had more variety and amusement, for there were five hundred different kinds of toys to sell to five hundred different types of people. That suggested benignity.

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Perhaps, thought Sadie, Meggison wanted to see how much the new girl could stand. Perhaps he wished to "sweat out of her" all the work of which she was capable, the full wage worth she could give to Peter Rolls before casting her aside forever.

Or—it was just possible that, instead of exciting resentment, she had won his respect by "cheeking" him. That had been known to happen in the most unexpected, though now historic cases. And girls who had awaited their discharge had been promoted, mounting slowly higher and higher over the bodies of those who fell by the wayside, until they had become head buyers, receiving ten thousand dollars a year and a trip to Paris every summer.

In any case, Win liked Toys better than Blouses, though Mr. Tobias (whose hair "left off where it began," and who wore his eyes in bags) was a very "different proposition" from Fred Thorpe, the kind and handsome floor-walker who loved Dora Stein, yet was fair to her rivals. If Tobias saw a young woman stop to breathe he came up and reminded her that this wasn't a matinée—they weren't having a party that day nor serving five-o'clock tea.

The girls, too, were often rough in their ways and pushed each other rudely about. They were surlily suspicious sometimes and seemed temperamentally unable to trust one another, but they were good-natured at heart. "Snap and let snap" was the unwritten law in Toyland, and though they all squabbled among themselves, if a girl were ill or had bad news her companions were ready in an instant to help or console.

They mimicked Win and gave her the same nickname she had gained downstairs, "Miss Thank-you," "Beg-your-pardon," and "If-you-please." But soon she found herself popular, and saw the girls, and even the men, adopting the gentler ways she brought among | | 192 them. They seemed half unconsciously to fall into the soft manner they made fun of, which was a score for Win. Besides, there was Cupid, and he alone, she thought, would have been worth the move from Blouses into Toys.

Cupid was an errand-boy, employed to run with messages from one department to another; but, though in Toyland there were some dolls larger, there were none more beautiful than he. His real name happened to be Billy Slate, but he rejoiced in several others more appropriate, such as "Bud," "Christmas Card," and "Valentine." That of "Cupid" was added to the list by Miss Child, who had more scientific, mythological knowledge of the youth in question than anyone else at the Hands perhaps, though most of the others could boast a more intimate personal acquaintance with him in modern life.

Billy, alias "Bud," et cetera, was a permanent fixture at Peter Rolls's, having been in his present position for some time and possessing no ambition to better it though he had reached the mature age of "twelve, going on thirteen." He had resisted the blandishments of all the prettiest girls in the store, but for some reason fell a victim to Miss Child at first sight; perhaps because she was English (his parents came from Manchester), or perhaps because she treated him, not like a little boy but like a man and an equal. He adored her, promptly and passionately, and she responded; out of which arose a situation.

Cupid sometimes received presents of violets or Malmaison pinks from admiring customers, gifts which he spurned with the weary scorn of a matinée idol for love-letters, but was willing to barter for sums varying from one cent to five, according to the freshness of the flowers. When Win drifted into his life, however all tribute which Cupid received was laid upon her | | 193 altar. He would take no money. Her smiling thanks were worth more to him than the brightest copper coins from others—and an offer of candy was politely but firmly refused.

"Pooh! Miss Child, I can get all of that stuff I want, on my face, off the girls in the candy dep," he explained with a blasé air. "You keep it for you and your friends, and I'll get you more. I'm tired of sweet things myself."

And from that time on Win's attenuated meals were eked out by Cupid's presentation chocolates and marsh-mallows. Of the latter—a novelty to her—she and Sadie were very fond. They seemed nourishing, too, or, at all events, "filling," and came in handy when you had allotted yourself only five cents for luncheon. As soon as Cupid learned his loved one's penchant for marshmallows he contrived to produce a few each day, even if he had to "nick" them when the "candy girls" weren't looking.

The morning of Christmas Eve (the day which, Win knew, would decide her fate at the Hands) Cupid appeared with a whole box of her favourites instead of the five or six crushed white shapes he generally offered in a torn bit of clean paper.

"Why, Cupid, how did you come by this gorgeousness?" asked Win, who had half a minute to spare in the luncheon lull.

"Don't you worry and get a wrinkle, kid," replied the youth, who had permission to apply any pet name he pleased. "The stuff's mine, all right. And now it's yours. Unless you think I sneaked it. Then you can chuck it away, box and all. See?"

"Of course I don't think you sneaked it. You wouldn't do such a thing. But—ought I to take it? That's the question."

"It's foolish question 786245," quoted Cupid with | | 194 his weariest sneer. "I'm the guy what put the nut in cokernut! I guess there'll be more where this come from in the sweet by and by."

Win eyed him anxiously. Now where had she heard that quotation about the "foolish question"? Why, it was a slang phrase of Mr. Logan's. He had used it only that morning, about half an hour earlier, in gay, bantering conversation with Miss Leavitt. He "blew in," as he called it, nearly every day now to buy something more for his "little sister's Christmas tree," something that he had forgotten yesterday, or to inquire earnestly after the sale of a mechanical frog, which he claimed as his own invention and patent. He had never succeeded in getting Win to serve him, but he was as free to look at her as a cat is free to look at a king.

Apart, however, from telling glances which Miss Child never seemed to see, Mr. Logan appeared quite satisfied with the attentions of Miss Leavitt or Sadie Kirk, who had waited upon him once or twice when Lily was not available.

Suddenly an idea flashed into Winifred's head.

"Did a man give you this box for me?" she inquired.

"Ain't I man enough?" Cupid tried bluff to hide a flush that mounted to his yellow curls.

"Answer me. You must."

"Ain't you some chicken to go on askin' silly questions about a good thing? You just take it, kid, and be thankful."

"I can't, Cupid. I thought you liked me."

"You bet I do, sweetie."

"Then you wouldn't want to cheat me about such a thing, would you? I'm fond of you, Cupid, and we're friends, so I can accept presents from you. But I don't take them from strange men, and I should hate to fee you cared little enough for me to play such a joke. It would get me misunderstood."

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Flattered by this appeal to and acceptance of his manhood, Cupid confessed.

"Well, don't have the nasty old stuff, then," said he. "I thought I was doin' you a good turn. Thought gells liked strange men makin' 'em presents. The feller said 'twould be good business for you as well as me. And he tipped me fifty cents to pass you on the box. Suppose I must hand it back to him now."

"Do, Cupid dear," urged Win. "But you sha'n't lose by that. I know you meant no harm, and I'll give you fifty cents myself when I get my pay."

"What kind of a jay do you take me for?" snorted Cupid. "Men don't accept no lucre from ladies where I live. I'll go chuck the guy back his marshmallers and his dirty money, since you put it that way, my baby doll."

"Where is he? Waiting for you somewhere to hear the news?"

Cupid tossed his curls in the direction of the moving staircase, which in Toyland was known as the "Osculator." A bored-looking youth was stationed officially at the top in order to catch any ascending lady who might threaten to fall; but as only the oldest and frailest ever did so, his bored expression had become chronic.

"Chap's down at the foot o' that," confessed the boy. "But say, won't you just look and see if there's a note under the cover? Maybe he's slipped in a Christmas gift of a hundred-dollar bill or a diamond tiarey."

"I've no curiosity," said Win. "You may tell your friend that, and——"

"Oh, I know! Tell him he'd darned better not try the same snap again."

"Yes," laughed Win. "Exactly."

Cupid darted away with the box, striding down the "osculator" as it came rolling up, a feat forbidden. | | 196 But the boy was a law unto himself and was seldom scolded.

When he had gone Win wished that she had thought to ask how the man had found out her liking for marsh-mallows. But perhaps he had invited a suggestion from Cupid. Or the marshmallows might be a coincidence.

She did not for an instant doubt that the would-be giver was Mr. Logan, and she half hoped there was a note inside the box, in order that he might feel the mortification of getting it back unopened. She hoped, also, that the disappointment might be a lesson which Mr. Logan would take to heart, and—unless he were prepared to transfer his attentions to Miss Leavitt or some one else equally ready to receive them—that he would not again invade the busy land of toys.

An hour later, however, he returned and loitered about, ostentatiously waiting until Miss Leavitt should be free to serve him. Win was showing dolls to a fussy woman who could not be satisfied with the most beguiling porcelain or waxen smile. At last, having looked at several dozens, she flounced away, announcing that she would go to Bingel's. This threat, being uttered in a voice intentionally shrill, was overheard by the hovering floor-walker, Mr. Tobias.

He had never yet had occasion to scold No. 2884; and, as a matter of fact, had noted her as a "lively proposition." He had seen that, if 2884 had a few minutes to spare, she usually occupied them, not in polishing her nails or talking about last night's dance, as not a few of the girls did, but in "looking over stock," peeping into boxes, and peering into the background of shelves in order to see for herself what was available without having to question salespeople who had been longer in the department than she.

This was the sure sign of a "winner"; and besides, 2884 had the right way with customers. She kept her | | 197 temper, even with the most irritating "lemons." Her charming enthusiasm about the toys and her knowledge of their mechanism (when they had any) often hypnotized customers into buying expensive things they had not intended to take. With remarkable quickness she had picked up slang danger signals by which one "assistant" can warn another of impending trouble.

She understood the warning cry of "ishra ankra" for a "crank," and could give the pencil taps telegraphing from counter to counter that a notorious "pill" or an "I'll-come-back-again" was bearing down on the department. She seemed to know by instinct when she could offer to send a toy C.O.D. for a stranger without fear of "cold pig"—having the thing returned unpaid—and she could give enough of her own vitality to a tired woman to make her want to buy.

All these virtues Mr. Tobias had discerned in 2884, and with such heart as he had, he admired her. He intended, if she went on as she had begun, to "set the good word going " which would reach those "at the top." But now, at a moment when he happened through acute indigestion to be in a particularly fretful mood, he believed that he had found out the "bright girl" in a grave fault.

It was too late to inveigle the lost client back, but while Win was hastily replacing dolls in boxes before taking another customer, Mr. Tobias pounced. "Why did you let that lady go without showing her any of our best dolls?" he inquired, angling for guilt in her soul's depths with a fish-hook glare.

"I showed her everything of the price she wanted, and even some a little higher," 2884 excused herself.

"What about the doll you all call 'Little Sister'?" Tobias threw out the question as if it were a lasso. "I hear you've said that you won't part with that one if you can help it."

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Win grew pink, though she firmly gave him back look for look. Little Sister was her favourite doll, and it was an open secret that Miss Child didn't wish to sell it unless she could be sure of finding it a suitable and happy home. In fact, she hated the thought of a sale. Many Teddy bears and other interesting personalities she had learned to like and to miss when they went the way of all good Teddy animals; but Little Sister she loved, and to barter that adorable sunny head, those laughing brown eyes and dimples for money seemed almost as bad as the auctioning of a child in the slave-market. If she had had twenty dollars to play with she would have bought the doll for herself. As it was, she had to plead guilty to Mr. Tobias's charge.

She changed her look of self-defence to one more deprecating, yet half mischievous; not the look of a scolded girl to an accusing floor-walker, but that of charming young womanhood to man.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't forget; but I felt sure that lady wouldn't spend twenty dollars for a doll. And I know I can find a better—I mean, I know I can get some one to buy it."

"I'll buy it," said Mr. Logan, stepping up.

This time he had safely caught his tantalizing rainbow trout, which had not a chance even to wriggle. There was 2884 without an excuse in the shape of another customer, and there was Tobias, with whom, on the strength of the alleged "invention," Mr. Jim Logan had already scraped acquaintance.

The eyes of the girl and the man met. Logan saw that Miss Child had already guessed what he meant to do, or that she thought, she had. But he believed that he had a card up his sleeve whose presence even her sharp wit had not detected. He looked forward joyously to the scene about to begin.

"Get the doll I spoke of and show it to this gentle- | | 199 man," commanded Mr. Tobias, lingering to see that he was obeyed, for there was that in the flushed face of 2884 which told him she was capable of a trick.

Little Sister lived in a large, open-fronted box lined with blue silk and fluffy lace in a desirable but not too conspicuous (Win had seen to that!) corner of a shelf devoted entirely to dollhood. There she stood now, the sweet, smiling thing, the image of the ideal two-year-old baby which every girl would like to have for her own "when I'm married."

In reaching up her hands to take down the box Win hesitated. Next but one was another doll, not unlike Little Sister to the casual eye, especially the casual eye of a mere man. Its dress was also white; its hair was of much the same gold, though not quite so radiant; its eyes were as brown, if more beady; and it was larger, more elaborately gowned, therefore more expensive. If Mr. Tobias recognized the difference, would he not praise rather than blame the saleswoman, since instructions were to force high-priced articles on customers whenever possible?

Win darted a corner-wise glance at Tobias to see if he were suspiciously watching her. He was, with the expression of a cloud about to emit a flash of forked lightning. Little Sister must be sacrificed!

Just then, as Win reluctantly placed the box on the counter for Logan's twinkling inspection, Cupid went by on one of the endless errands which, as he said, "kept him jerking up and down all day like a churn." He knew Little Sister, for had not his beloved "Kid" ruffled his feelings by remarking on a likeness between her pet doll and himself? Infra dig. as was the comparison, he had forgiven it when the Kid explained her affection for the type. Now that Fresh Guy who had nearly "got him disliked" for fifty cents was going to buy the doll!

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Cupid "spotted" the trick at once and saw its cleverness.

The boy "made big eyes" at Win as he stumped past, and wondered whether she "was fly enough to catch on" to what he wanted them to say.

She was not. At that moment, when she found herself outwitted by Logan, Cupid's big hazel eyes and yellow head seemed irrelevant.

"The price is twenty dollars," she announced mechanically. These were the first words she had uttered to Logan since passing him on to Miss Leavitt the day of his first appearance in Toyland.

"That's all right," said her smiling customer. "Rather cheap for such a handsome doll, isn't it? I think the young person I intend to give it to will be pleased, don't you?"

"I can't say, I'm sure," returned Miss Child with aggravating primness, her eyes cast down.

"Why, you might give me your advice!"

The glare of Mr. Tobias was turned upon her again, like a two-dollar electric torch.

"It's quite one of our prettiest dolls," she admitted under the search-light.

"Good! I'm glad you think so. Well, here's the money, all in small bills, I'm afraid. Would you mind just counting it over? I've got on my gloves."

She had to take the money from him, which gave him a chance to touch her hand, and he made the most of it. If Mr. Tobias saw what was going on, he ignored it tactfully, for the great thing was to keep a good customer at any price. If the price were a flirtation, why all the better for the girl, provided the man were chump enough to give her a good restaurant dinner now and then. Peter Rolls had to think of his dividends, since he and his manager were not in business for their health, and to make them satisfactory, salefolk had to be | | 201 got cheap. It was "up to" the girls to take care of themselves. What they did out of business hours Peter Rolls and Mr. Tobias did not care, and didn't want to know.

No. 2884 required the address, which Mr. Logan seemed eager to give.

"Write clearly, please," he gaily commanded. "Miss—Winifred—Child. And now the number of the house. I know it as well as my own."

"I can't accept this," she said, not taken by surprise, because she had been sure all along what he meant. Only it came as a slight shock that he should have found out her whole name and the street and house where she lived.

"But see here," argued Logan, still in the low tone to which both voices had fallen, "I bought the doll for you when I heard you liked it. Why not? No harm in taking a doll from a friend."

"You're not a friend," she broke in.

"I want to be. What will that floor-walker chap say if Little Sister is thrown back on Peter Rolls's hands? It might get you into trouble."

"I can't help that," Win was beginning desperately, when Earl Usher came hurrying up from the other end of the department, where he had been selling automatic toy pistols.

"Excuse me, Miss Child," said he brusquely, "but that doll is sold. I ought to have marked it, but forgot. My fault. While you was away to lunch it happened. The purchester is going to look in to-night, between six and six-thirty, to pay and take the parcel away."

Mr. Tobias, hearing this announcement, came bustling into closer ear-shot again.

"Very remiss—very remiss not to have marked the doll as sold," he sputtered. "I don't think we can let the deal stand. This gentleman has offered to purchase | | 202 in good faith, and here's his money. Your customer may as like as not go back on the bargain."

"He won't," said Ursus firmly. "It's a man. He's often here doing business. He'll be awful mad, and we'll lose him certain sure if we throw him down like that. I'll be responsible."

"You!" sneered Tobias, impressed nevertheless. "Why, you ain't more than a ten-dollar man, if you're that. This doll costs twenty dollars."

"I know; and I don't pretend to have saved up a million. But this mix-up is my fault, and the man was my customer, so I ought to stand the racket. Look here," and he proudly drew forth from some inner pocket on his enormous chest a handsome gold watch destitute of a chain.

"Presentation," he announced. "You can see my name and the date. I've hocked this more'n once and got forty. Will you keep it till my customer turns up?

"No," returned Tobias magnanimously. "If you're so sure of your man, I guess it's all right, and the sale 'll have to stand. I'm sorry, Mr. Logan. But you see how it is. Can't one of our young ladies show you something else?"

"No, thank you, not to-day," said Logan, his long, sallow face red and the twinkle gone out of his eyes. "It was Little Sister or nothing for me."

But, though he gathered up his mass of greenbacks and stalked away with his smart hat on the back of his incredibly sleek head, Tobias was not greatly worried. The young swell was sweet on Child, and wasn't above a flirtation with red-haired Leavitt, at the same time he was trying to spoon the English girl. He would come back, and soon—no fear!—to see how his invention was going.

"Lordy! but that was a big bluff I put up!" sighed Earl Usher to Cupid, as he slid his watch into the little | | 203 boy's hand. "If Tobias had taken me, I'd 'a' bin up a tree! Sure you can get off, sonny?"

"Dead sure, for they'll be sendin' me out. They always do. I'll manage the biz for you."

"Good Bud! You get a quarter for yourself, see?—for puttin' me on to the job in time."

Mr. Tobias happened to be at a distance when Usher's customer came in and paid. But when the floor-walker inquired, at six-thirty—characteristically remembering a small detail in the terrible Christmas rush—the transaction had been completed and Little Sister was gone. Even Win had not seen the purchaser. Ursus had come in a hurry, his client's twenty dollars in hand, and had taken away the box that contained the doll. There had not even been time to ask if the man who had bought it looked kind and rich; but Win was too thankful to have been saved from her "scrape" with Logan to care passionately, after all, for Little Sister's fate.

That night, a few minutes before ten o'clock, the employés of the various sections were lined up (men in one aisle, girls in another) to receive their pay-envelopes, and, in most cases where the "holiday extras" were concerned, their dismissals. Just in front of Winifred Child was Sadie Kirk, and Win knew that for her friend it was a question almost as important as that of life and death whether she were to stay or go.

After holiday time it was dreadfully difficult to get work, she not being the stuff of which stewardesses are made, and Sadie had more pluck than physical strength. Never had she entirely recovered "tone" after that attack of influenza which had lost her a good position, and the strenuous work during these weeks at Peter Rolls's had pulled her down. If she were to be "out of a job" things would be very bad for her; yet, as she moved | | 204 up slowly, step by step, to the desk of destiny, she was reading a novel, calmly straining her eyes in the trying light. Over her shoulder Win could see the name of the book—"Leslie Norwood's Wife." Page after page Sadie turned, not with a nervous flutter, but with the regularity which meant concentration. She was bent on finding out what happened to Leslie Norwood's Wife before the moment came to find out what was about to happen to Sadie Kirk.

She was near the end now. But was she near enough? Win began in her nervous fatigue, and anxiety on her own account, to wager with herself as to whether Sadie would finish that book before her turn came to take the fateful envelope. Would she? Would she not? "I bet she will!" Win thought. "If she does, it'll mean luck for us both!"

And she did. Just as the girl ahead of Sadie clasped her pay-envelope with a slightly trembling hand Sadie read the last word on the last page, shut the volume, and tucked it under her arm. Then she took her envelope and gave place to Win.

They were among the few lucky ones out of the extra two thousand. Most of the others received with their pay little printed slips signed "Peter Rolls," announcing that it was "necessary to readjust our force down to the normal at this time." Those dismissed were politely informed that their record was on file. Should vacancies occur, where they might be placed in future, they would be "notified to that effect." Meanwhile they were thanked for loyal service. And—that was the end of them as far as Peter Rolls was concerned.

He still had use, however, for Winifred Child, Sadie Kirk, Earl Usher, and two or three other "live" workers in Toyland. They compared notes joyously; but despite her sense of relief, Win's heart was heavy for | | 205 those left out in the cold. The girls who were disappointed hurried away in silence, but many of the men whom No. 2884 had not thought of as friends, scarcely as acquaintances, came up to say good-bye. They held out their hands and remarked that they were "glad to have known her."

Some of her ways and some of her sayings were pretty good, they guessed, and they wouldn't forget her, although they didn't suppose that they'd ever meet again. Suddenly Win realized that they had been kind and pleasant, so far as it had lain in their power, and she, staying on, would miss the faces that were gone. She choked a little over these men's appreciation of the difference between her "ways" and those of some other girls, and was half ashamed that it should surprise her.

"I expect I'll have to take to the sea again," sighed the ex-steward. "I wanted a little more time on land, but it ain't to be. Don't forget, you and your friend Sadie, that I can get you jobs on one of the big greyhounds."

"What a Christmas eve!" Win said to herself aloud, as she almost fell into her room at eleven-thirty. "In half an hour more it will be Christmas, and I don't suppose there's one soul with a thought for me in all Europe or America!"

But on the ugly red cover (warranted not to betray dirt) of the rickety bed were two parcels—a big box and a little one. Somebody must have been thinking of her, after all!

Revived, she cut the strings on both boxes and opened the little one first, on the childlike principle of "saving the best thing for the last."

"Lilies of the valley! Why, how lovely! Who could have sent them?" There was no name, and a question asked itself in Win's mind that spoiled all | | 206 her pleasure—but only for a moment. She unwrapped the big box, and on the cover (which looked curiously familiar) she read, evidently scrawled in furious haste, with pencil, "From Ursus to Lygia, with respectful regards and wishes for a merry Christmas. Also please accept lilies."

Miss Leavitt had testified her admiration for the blond giant by sending him a box of her name-flowers, bought with some of the "change" Mr. Logan had told her to keep. The admired one had promptly "passed them on." But Win did not know this, and he didn't see why she ever should. (Anyhow, flowers were flowers!)

The girl was so pleased to know that the lilies came from Ursus, not another, that she could almost have kissed them—but not quite. Then, in her relief, she lifted the cover of the large box and gave a cry which was not unlike a sob. There, in silk and lace, with eyes closed and smiling lips, lay Little Sister.

"Oh, his watch—his presentation-watch!" gurgled. And sitting on the bed, with the great doll in her arms, she let fall on the unresponsive head a few tears of grief and gratitude.

She understood everything now, even the "big bluff."

What had been or had not been in Miss Leavitt's pay-envelope Win did not know until the morning after Christmas, that strangest Christmas of her life, which she spent resting quietly in bed. Returning next day to Toyland, where everything looked half asleep in the early gloom, she saw the glitter of red hair.

"Hello!" said Miss Leavitt. "Here we are again! Did you have a merry——?"

She stopped short, her eyes fastened on a tiny spray of pearly bells half hidden in the folds of the other's | | 207 black silk blouse. For an instant she forgot what she had meant to say, gasped slightly, closed her lips, opened them as if to speak, shut her teeth together with a snap, swallowed heavily, and went on where she had broken off—"Christmas?"

Win thanked her, said "Yes," and asked politely how Miss Leavitt had spent her holiday. This gave the girl with red hair time to control the temper which accompanied it. But if, in that brief interval of uncertainty, she had burst out with the fierce insult which burned her tongue, never again could she have ventured to claim friendship with Winifred Child. And if she had lost her right to claim it, all the future might have been different for one of them.

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