Miss Stribble glances accusin' at paw and maw. "Oh, they've been roastin' me, have they?" she demands. "Well, I can't help it. What they want to know is how much I'm gettin' so I'll have to give up more. But it don't work. See! I pay my board--good board, at that--and I'm not goin' to have paw snoopin' around my place tryin' to queer me. Let him get out and rustle for himself." With that Mame sheds the throw-scarf and tosses her velvet tam on the table. "I'm so sorry," says Vee. "I didn't mean to interfere at all. And I've no doubt you have a perfectly good situation." "It's good enough," says Mame, "until I strike something better." "What a cunning little hat!" says Vee, pickin' up the tam. "Such a lot of style to it, too." "Think so?" says Mame. "Well, I built it myself." "Really!" says Vee. "Why, you must be very clever. I wish I could do things like that." Trust Vee for smoothin' down rumpled feathers when she wants to. Inside of two minutes she had Mame smilin' grateful and holdin' her hand as she says good-by. "Poor girl!" says Vee, as we gets to the street. "I don't blame her for being dissatisfied with such a father as that. And it's just awful the way they talk about her. I'm going to see if I can't do something for her at the shop." "Eh?" says I. "She didn't tell you where she was working." "She didn't need to," says Vee. "The name was in the hat lining--the Maison Noir." "Say, you're some grand little sleuth yourself, ain't you?" says I. "And that explains," Vee goes on, "why I happened to remember the Stribbles today. I must have seen her there. Yes, I'm sure I did--that pale gold hair and the old ivory complexion are too rare to----" "Why!" I breaks in, "that's the description Crosby Rhodes gave me of this show window charmer of his." "Was it?" says Vee. "Then perhaps----" "But what could she have been doing, posin' in the window?" I asks. "That's what gets me." It got Vee, too. "Anyway," says she, "you must meet that Mr. Rhodes tomorrow and tell him what you've discovered. He's rather a nice chap, isn't he?" "Oh, he's all right, I guess," says I. "A bit soft above the ears, maybe, but out in the tall timber I expect he passes for a solid citizen. I don't just see how I'm going to help him out much, though." "I'll tell you," says Vee. "In the morning I will 'phone to Madame Maurice that I want you to see the frock I've picked out, and you can take Mr. Rhodes in with you." So that's the way we worked it. I calls up Crosby, makes the date, and we meets on the corner at twelve-thirty. He's more or less excited. "Then you think you know who she is?" he asks. "If you're a good describer," says I, "there's a chance that I do. But listen: suppose she's kind of out of your class--a girl who's been brought up in a basement, say, with a janitor for a father?" "What do I care who her father is?" says Crosby. "I was brought up in a lumber camp myself. All I ask is a chance to meet her."