“Not all,” Nan replied, rather seriously. Then, as she gathered their possessions together for transportation to the chair-car she, by accident, kicked her chum’s hand-bag out into the aisle. “Why! what’s this?” Nan cried.
“Oh! there it is,” Bess said. “The horrid thing! I didn’t know what had become of it. And I was so mortified when I came to pay for my tea.”
Nan looked at her aghast. “Whatever did you do?” she asked.
Bess had the grace to blush a little. But then she laughed, too.
“I will tell you,” she said. “That Riggs girl isn’t so bad, after all. She saw my difficulty and she just had my forty-five cents added to her check. It was real kind of her.”
“Well! I never!” was all Nan could say.
She followed Bess forward to the other car in something of a daze, bearing the bulk of their impedimenta herself. Bess Harley hobnobbing with the rude girl who had accused her, Nan, of being a thief! It seemed impossible.
“Where are you going?” Nan asked, as Bess continued up the aisle. “Here are empty seats.”
“There is plenty of room up front,” said Bess, cheerfully.
Nan saw Linda Riggs’ hat “up front,” too. “No,” she said firmly. “I shall sit here.”