For the next three weeks, Theodora kept the secret of her experiment to herself.
"It's all right. Papa knows," was all the reply she could be induced to make to the questions which assailed her from all sides, in regard to the way she was spending her Saturday mornings.
It would be impossible to say how long the mystery would have been kept up if she had had her own way. One Saturday noon, however, Phebe came bouncing into the dining-room, her eyes blazing with righteous indignation and injured pride.
"Theodora McAlister, I'm ashamed of you, perfectly ashamed!"
"You've said so before," Theodora answered tranquilly, while she went on eating her dinner. "What is it, this time?"
"You've gone into a store." Phebe's tone was one of scathing scorn.
"Yes. What of it?"
"My sister a clerk in a common store!"
"Yes, in Huntington's."
"But it might have been a grocery."