“Oh, Tavia!” “Suppose it had been that Mrs. Halbridge who had really lost her bag,” Tavia went on to say. “If this girl had tried to return it, she and little Forty-seven both would have lost their jobs. Perhaps the police would have been called in. Do you see? I expect the big girl read kindness in Mr. Knapp’s face——” Dorothy suddenly threw both arms about Tavia, and hugged her tightly. “Oh, you _dear_!” she cried; but she would not explain what she meant by this sudden burst of affection. “Go on!” was her repeated demand. “You are insatiable, my dear,” laughed Tavia. “Well, there isn’t much more ‘go on’ to it. The girl spoke to him when he passed her on the street and quickly told him all the story. Of course, he promised that nothing should happen to either of them. They are honest girls—the older one at least. And the temptation came so suddenly to little Forty-seven, whose wages are so pitiably small.” “I know,” said Dorothy, gently. “You remember, we learned something about it when little Miette De Pleau told us how she worked as cash-girl here years ago.” “Of course I remember,” Tavia said. “Well, that’s all, I guess. Oh no! I asked Mr. Knapp if he didn’t notice the big girl staring at us as we got to the hotel door last night. And what do you suppose he said?” “I don’t know,” and Dorothy was still smiling happily. “Why, he said he didn’t. ‘You see,’ he added, in that funny way of his, ‘I expect my eyes were elsewhere’; and he wasn’t complimenting me, either,” added Tavia, rolling her big eyes. “Whom do you suppose he could have meant he was looking at, Doro?” Her friend ignored the question, but hopped out of bed. “What are you going to do?” asked Tavia, in wonder. “Dress.” “But it is nine o’clock! Almost bedtime.” “_Bedtime?_” demanded Dorothy. “And in the city? Why, Tavia! you amaze me, child!” “But you’re not going out?” cried her friend. “Do you realize I haven’t had a bite of dinner?” demanded the bold Dorothy. “I think you are very selfish.” “Well, anyway,” snapped Tavia, suddenly showing her claws—and who does not once in a while?—“_he’s_ gone out for a long walk and he expects to finish his business to-morrow and go home.” “Oh!” gasped Dorothy. She sat on the edge of her bed with her first stocking in her hand. Tavia had gone back into her own room. Had she been present she must have noticed all the delight fading out of Dorothy Dale’s countenance. Finally, the latter tossed away the stocking, and crept back into bed. “I—I guess I’m too lazy to dress after all, dear,” she said, in a still little voice. “And you are tired, too, Tavia. The telephone has been fixed; just call down, will you, and ask them to send me up some tea and toast?” CHAPTER IX THEY SEE GARRY’S BACK The following day Dorothy was her old cheerful self—or so Tavia thought. They did not shop with such abandon, but took matters more easily. And they returned to the hotel for luncheon and for rest.