“None that I ever heard of. Say Scott, I’ll drop in tomorrow to see if you have gotten hold of what I want beside these. Regards to your wife. Mine is happy these holidays with her daughter from school. Good morning.”
That very afternoon the incident occurred which brought Shirley to the notice of Sidney’s father, a surprising experience. The Holland chauffeur, who had little to do when the Holland boys were at home, had taken the girls to do some shopping. It was Shirley’s last opportunity to make such purchases as she needed before going back to school. They had run across Caroline, who accompanied them when Shirley went to have a dress tried on, one which she had seen before but just decided to buy. Some alterations were to be made and when Shirley saw how Hope looked as she sat waiting she suggested that the girls need not wait for her. “You have a headache, Hope, I know, and I shall have to wait a little while. Go on home, do. I can come by street car. I know right where to go, for Mac told me one time, for fear I might get lost.”
Caroline looked at Hope. “Yes, Hope, you are half sick; but I tell you what we’ll do. I’ll take you home, and Hope can tell her chauffeur to wait for Shirley. Shirley knows where the car is parked. I’d have to leave you in a minute anyhow, because I told Mother that I’d be right back, and she will be through her shopping by this time.”
So it was arranged, and Hope was glad to go with Caroline. Shirley did not have very long to wait, not as long as she had expected. Hurrying from the store, she mistook direction and had a great hunt for the car. At last she saw it, smooth and shining, and with a sigh of relief she approached it, entering it without waiting for the chauffeur, whom she saw standing at a little distance in conversation with some other man. Shirley sank back against the cushions in relief. Her dress was a pretty one and would be sent to her at the school. Her other packages would be delivered at the Hollands’. What luxury this was. Could this be Shirley, ready to say, “Home, James?”
The chauffeur, whom Shirley had scarcely noticed before, apologized for not being there to open the door, which Shirley had found unlocked. “I was only a short distance away,” said the man, “but I saw a man that—,” but the chauffeur was busy with getting his car out into the street successfully and Shirley lost the rest. She closed her eyes and leaned back again. They had not taken time even for some ice-cream and she was really hungry. Ho for the good dinner waiting at the Hollands’!
Shirley was almost ready to doze off, for traffic in Chicago disturbed her no more, when the car stopped at a curb, to let a fine-looking man of middle age enter. Shirley looked up with surprise. Perhaps this was some guest,—but it was funny that Hope had not mentioned it. The gentleman was dressed in unobtrusive but the finest of business outfit,—clothes, tie, shoes, the heavy, handsome overcoat and the well-fitting hat.
He, too, leaned back as if tired. “You may go home now,” he said to the chauffeur.
Shirley sat up, startled. Who was this? She turned and started to say something, but the gentleman looked at her and said, “What is the matter, Sidney? Have you forgotten something? I see that you left your fur coat to be fixed, but I hope that you will not take cold in that one.”
Shirley ceased to be startled when she heard herself addressed as Sidney. By some mistake she had gotten into the Thorne car and this was Mr. Thorne! She smiled and said, “I see that I have made a mistake. I am not Sidney, Mr. Thorne, I am Shirley Harcourt. Hasn’t Sidney told you about me?”
“Do you mean to say that you are not Sidney? Why, Sidney, child, you are just joking!” Mr. Thorne looked scarcely puzzled.