They stood just at the entrance to the theatre, where the electric lights were brightest. A few flakes of snow were falling, like glistening particles of tinsel. There were not many patrons entering the moving picture house at this late hour, but the remainder of the Masons' guests crowded forward to hear and see what was going on.
Nan was white-faced, but dry-eyed. Walter stood partly in front of her as though he were physically defending her, and held one of her hands while his other hand was tightly clenched, and his face ablaze with indignation.
"Oh, Nan! What is the matter?" cried Bess Harley, running to Nan's side and taking her other hand.
"What has happened?" asked Grace Mason. "What is it, Walter?"
"My goodness!" broke in Bess, before there could be any other explanation. "Here's that horrid Linda Riggs. What brought her here, I'd like to know?"
"I've as much right here as you have, Harley," cried Linda. "I don't have to worm myself into society that is above me, as you and your precious friend do. My father is as rich as any girl's father here, I'd have you know."
"Oh, hush, Linda!" murmured Pearl Graves, very much ashamed of her cousin.
"Walter! Grace! What does this mean?" demanded the governess, hurrying forward. "Don't make a scene here, I beg. Have no quarreling."
But Walter was too greatly enraged to be easily amenable to the mild lady's advice.
"What do you think of this, Miss Hagford?" he cried excitedly. "Nan Sherwood has been at our house since the first day she and Bess arrived in Chicago; yet Linda Riggs says she saw Nan taking something in a store here."