KATHLEEN'S PROMISE
"Not in, Miss," was the disappointing information Grace received from the maid who answered the door at Morton House.
"Did she leave word when she would return?" questioned Grace.
"She did not, Miss. She went out with Miss Denton, and didn't say nothin', Miss," was the discouraging reply. "An' will I tell her you was askin' for her, Miss?"
"No; I may come again this evening."
Grace walked slowly down the steps and across the campus. She was not at all sure that she would repeat her call. Dear as was Arline to her, the inevitable reaction had set in. Now Grace's pride whispered to her that there was no real reason why she should humble herself to her too-easily-offended friend. It was Arline, not she, who was in the wrong, she mused resentfully. She was rather glad, after all, that Arline had not been at home.
Glancing undecidedly toward Wayne Hall, then at her watch, Grace set off in the opposite direction at a rapid walk. It was five o'clock. She would have time to do a little shopping in the Overton stores before they closed. She hurried toward the nearest dry goods store, so intent upon reaching there that she paid little or no attention to the people she passed in the street.
Shopping at this late hour proved a comparatively easy matter. Here and there a belated customer might be seen wandering from counter to counter, but the day's business was practically finished and the saleswomen were busily counting their sales or conversing with their nearest neighbors in low tones. It was ten minutes to six when Grace, inwardly congratulating herself on having been able to do so much shopping in so short a space of time, hurried to the ribbon counter. Blue velvet ribbon was the last item on her list. Then she could go home feeling that her hour had been well spent.
"We're out of that shade of blue velvet ribbon," said the saleswoman, glancing at the sample Grace held out to her. "Everybody's been buying it. It's on order. Have it in next week."
Grace left the store almost on the run and hurried into a shop farther down the street, only to meet with the same disappointing reply. Three blocks farther on was the "French Shop." Grace was sure of finding it there, but was equally sure it would be infinitely more expensive. Still, she only needed a yard and a half. She was about to enter the shop, when the stocky figure of a man just ahead of her sent a sudden thrill of apprehension through her. There was something unpleasantly familiar about the round shoulders and slouching walk. Forgetting her errand, Grace began following him, keeping not more than twenty feet behind him. As he neared the first cross street the man glanced furtively about him, then, turning into the intersecting street, hurried on, almost at a run. Grace, bent only on seeing the stranger's face, unhesitatingly dogged his footsteps. It was now after six o 'clock and growing darker with every moment. Block after block they went, but now Grace kept a distance of a hundred feet or more between herself and the man she was following. She observed rather anxiously that they were nearing the end of Main Street, where the houses were fewer and farther apart.