Madame regarded the girl with a lenient, knowing smile.
“I think you will find the garments are yours, my dear. Mr. Van Rensselaer distinctly told me they were to be sent to you, and wrote out your address himself while you were changing.”
Bessie drew herself up with a heightened color.
“Then he wrote it absent-mindedly,” she said, “Mr. Van Rensselaer does not buy clothes for me. We are just acquaintances, old schoolmates. I haven’t seen him in years till I met him on the street yesterday, and he asked me to stop a few minutes and help him select this gift for his friend. You will find he will be very much annoyed about this if he finds out you have sent it to me. I brought it right back so that you might call him up and ask him at once to give you the address over again. I would not care to have him know it had been sent to my house.”
The Madame smiled again that aggravating smile.
“Mademoiselle had better call him up herself, and then she will discover that what I have told her is true.”
“I do not wish to call him up,” said Bessie haughtily, “and I decline to have anything further to do with the matter!” She turned toward the door.
Madame took one step toward her.
“One moment, Mademoiselle! Does Mademoiselle realize that if she leaves the goods here the gentleman will never know but that she has received them? The goods are paid for, and my responsibility is at an end.”
“Your responsibility is not over until you have let him know that the purchase was not accepted at the address to which you sent it.”