Alice Weston pleaded headache next morning. She did not get up until noon. Meanwhile Dorothy came, bringing hot coffee and toast.
"Does it really hurt?" queried Dorothy. "Or is it one of those headaches that is always going to hurt, but never does?"
Alice smiled and sipped her coffee. "Oh, it's not bad. I want to rest.
Perhaps it's the altitude."
"Perhaps," said Dorothy. "I'm sorry, Alice."
They chatted awhile. Suddenly Alice thought of the letters Lorry had given her. She had carried them to her room, and had forgotten them.
"Mr. Adams left some mail with me last night. I happened to be outside when he rode past."
"Why, I thought he had gone!"
"He said he had to go to Jason for something or other. He left early this morning, I think."
Dorothy glanced at the mail. "All for daddy—except this circular. H'm! 'Intelligent clothing for Intelligent People.' Isn't that awful? How in the world do such firms get one's address when one lives 'way up here in the sky. Do you ever get advertisements like this?"
"Oh, yes; heaps of them."