“Say! seems to me you’re awfully glum this morning. You’re not nice about my good luck—not a bit,” and Tavia stared at her in puzzlement. “Of course I’m delighted that you should recover your bag,” Dorothy hastened to say. “How did it come back?” “Why, the clerk gave it to me, I tell you.” “What clerk? The one at the silk counter?” “Goodness! The hotel clerk downstairs.” “But how did _he_ come by it?” Tavia slowly sat down and blinked. “Why—why,” she said, “I didn’t even think to ask him.” “Well, Tavia!” exclaimed Dorothy, rather aghast at this admission of her flyaway friend. “I do seem to have been awfully thoughtless again,” admitted Tavia, slowly. “I thanked him—the clerk, I mean! Oh, I did! I could have kissed him!” “Tavia!” “I could; but I didn’t,” said the wicked Tavia, her eyes sparkling once more. “But I never thought to ask how he came by it. Maybe some poor person found it and should be rewarded. Should I give a tithe of it, Doro, as a reward, as we give a tithe to the church? Let’s see! I had just eighty-nine dollars and thirty-seven cents, and an old copper penny for a pocket-piece. One-tenth of that would be——” “Do be sensible!” exclaimed Dorothy, rather tartly for her. “You might at least have asked how the bag was sent here—whether by the store itself, or by some employee, or brought by some outside person.” “Goodness! if it were your money would you have been so curious?” demanded Tavia. “I don’t believe it. You would have been just as excited as I was.” “Perhaps,” admitted Dorothy, after a moment. “Anyway, I’m glad you have it back, dear.” “And do you know what I am going to do? I am going to take that old man’s advice.” “What old man, Tavia?” “That Mr. Schuman—the head of the big store. I am going to go out right after breakfast and buy me a dog chain and chain that bag to my wrist.” Dorothy laughed at this—yet she did not laugh happily. There was something wrong with her, and as soon as Tavia began to quiet down a bit she noticed it again. “Doro,” she exclaimed, “I do believe something has happened to you!” “What something?” “I don’t know. But you are not—not happy. What is it?” “Hungry,” said Dorothy, shortly. “Do stop primping now and come on down to breakfast.” “Well, you must be savagely hungry then, if it makes you like this,” grumbled Tavia. “And it is an hour before our usual breakfast time.” They went down in the elevator to the lower floor, Tavia carrying the precious bag. She would not trust it out of her sight again, she said, as long as a penny was left in it. She attempted to go over to the clerk’s desk at the far side of the lobby to ask for the details of the recovery of her bag; but there were several men at the desk and Dorothy stopped her. “Wait until he is more at leisure,” she advised Tavia. “And until there are not so many men about.” “Oh, nonsense!” ejaculated Tavia, but she turned to follow Dorothy. Then she added: “Ah, there is one you won’t mind speaking to——”