"That may be all right for some folks," he replied. "But your remarks don’t apply, of course, to wealthy individuals like myself. I’m thinking of buying up a few of the novelties before I go home, as Christmas remembrances for my friends." He looked at Peggy smilingly, as if he expected her to appreciate the joke. Meeting the unblinking gravity of her gaze, his face changed slightly. "I don’t believe any real friend of yours would want a very expensive present from you," exclaimed Peggy, too indignant to realize that she was on dangerous ground. "Because, of course, you can’t afford it." A little irritation mingled with Graham’s surprise. "Naturally a fellow just finishing college and dependent on his father for every cent, isn’t going to blow in much for jewelry," he replied with an air of wishing to change the subject. "Some of these designs are great, Peggy, even if we can’t buy them." "Are they?" Peggy looked resolutely over the display, as if defying temptation. "It’s an enterprising firm," continued Graham, mystified by her unusual manner. "They’re great on advertising. The first ad. I got from them nearly took me off my feet. It was gotten up like a letter." "What!" Peggy’s sudden accession of breathless interest was as incomprehensible as her previous air of disapproval. "A letter? Tell me about it, Graham." "Why, there isn’t much to tell. It reads like a note of thanks for different presents you’ve sent. It brings in the name of the firm once or twice, and puffs ’em up in an accidental way. The mother of one of the fellows read his, and thought it was the real thing. He had no end of trouble explaining." This time Peggy joined in Graham’s laughter, and she was thankful that Ruth’s unconscious brother did not guess the tension of feeling beneath her merriment. Peggy only wished she had wings to fly to Ruth, and tell her that all was well. She fought against an alarming impulse to cry on the spot, to relieve her own overcharged heart. But as it happened, the fates had provided another outlet. There was no immediate danger of Peggy’s losing her head from joy. "Where’s Dorothy?" She flung the frightened question full in Graham’s face. The young fellow stood staring. "Dorothy? Was she with you?" "Yes. She was right here. She can’t have gotten far away. O, how could I forget her? How could I?" They pushed through the crowd to the curb, looking wildly in both directions. Standing at Graham’s elbow, Peggy babbled on almost incoherently. "Red coat, Graham, and a red hood. It was only a minute ago. O, why did I do it? Can’t you see a little girl all in red? O, what will mother say?" "Look here, Peggy, you want to keep your head." The sharpness of Graham’s tone was like a dash of cold water, disagreeable but effective. "Dorothy won’t be hurt because she’s out of your sight for a minute. But if you’re going to be any help, you must stop this."