“It is not very important, Dick. I’ll probably forget all about it.”
Shirley was with Mrs. Lytton later in the day, when they went with a guide through the great store of Marshall Field’s and afterward had lunch together there and shopped. Shirley wanted to send her Aunt Anne something from this particular store, just because Miss Dudley had spoken of liking it so much. It must be something nice, from her own little private fund.
For any purchase of her own, Shirley would have sought bargains, but for Miss Dudley she looked among many things far in advance of what she could pay and she rather wondered that the clerks took so much pains. It was an evident disappointment to a clerk who sold her a delicate handkerchief that she bought nothing else, and when Mrs. Lytton asked to see something less expensive than an article which was offered her, the young woman behind the counter looked decidedly surprised, giving Shirley a glance which she could scarcely interpret. But all through the store they were treated with a little more than even the customary courtesy. “I should almost think,” said Mrs. Lytton, “that they knew us.”
Shirley had not mentioned to her cousin the little encounters with those who seemed to think that they knew Shirley, and it did not seem worth while to comment upon it. But she did wonder if the resemblance had anything to do with the very particular courtesy of the clerks. She was accustomed to much the same consideration at home, for her father’s position and personality commanded the respect of his fellow townsmen. But the Harcourts by no means were expected to buy the most expensive articles upon a trip to the home shops.
The last occurrence which could be attributed to a fancied resemblance took place at the hotel, just as they were all waiting in the lobby, preparatory to leaving. A porter was standing by their luggage. Mr. Lytton was paying the bill at the desk. Dick was buying a paper. Mrs. Lytton was sitting in one of the big chairs and Shirley was standing by her, a little back of the chair, with one hand and her pocketbook resting on its well padded top.
A gentleman, conservatively dressed and looking like a prosperous Chicago business man, had previously passed them on his way from the entrance to the desk, where he talked with one of the clerks a moment and turned to make his way as rapidly out. Seeing Shirley, he paused a moment, with a look of surprise. Then he left the straight path to the door and walked briskly toward her. Mrs. Lytton, who was watching her husband from this distance, did not see him. But Shirley saw him coming and wondered what next. It might be some one whom she ought to know.
In consequence, when the gentleman offered his hand, Shirley extended hers. This might be an “old grad,” and it would never do not to remember him. There were hosts of folks who were entertained at her father’s table every Commencement and she could not always remember them.
As in the other instances, this stranger was in a hurry. Not yet had Shirley had an opportunity to say, “You are mistaken!” Nor yet had one mentioned the name of her “double!”
But this was not an “old grad.” It was evident at once as the gentleman addressed her. “Why, my dear, it is pleasant to see you in town yet. I thought that you had gone with your father. We shall miss all of you, though I expect to be in and out all summer. Mrs. Scott and the girls have gone on up to Wisconsin, you know. May you have a very delightful trip. You are looking very much better than you did when you returned at the close of school. Goodbye, my child, I must hurry back to the bank.”
Tipping his hat, this kind-looking, fatherly man sped on with true Chicago hurry. Twice Shirley had thought that she might get in a protesting word, and got no further than an apparent stammer. For Shirley was not supposed to interrupt older people and it would not have been possible to stop this rapid speech without an interruption.