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 watchdog, 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
downstairs 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.
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 floorwalker 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 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 any one 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 had been 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 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 marshmallows. 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 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
feel you cared little enough for me to play such a joke. It would get
me misunderstood."
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 shan'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 "Oscillator." 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. 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 marshmallows
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
Bimgel's. This threat, being uttered in a voice intentionally shrill,
was overheard by the hovering floorwalker, 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 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 fishhook 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."
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
floorwalker, 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 gentleman," 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 child, 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 cornerwise 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!
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
searchlight.
"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 salesfolk had to be 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 gayly 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 of 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 floorwalker 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 briskly, "but that doll is sold. I
ought to have marked it, but forgot. My fault. While you was away to
lunch it happened. The purchaser 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
earshot 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 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 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 floorwalker 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 employees 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 grippe 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 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
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 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!" she 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 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.