“I have nothing whatever to say on that subject,” was Lucy’s stiff answer. She was vowing within herself that “Once bitten twice shy” should hereafter be her motto. “I will say this much, though. You have given me unmistakable proof that Marjorie Dean is not nor never was my friend. I will keep my promise to you.”
Before Mignon had time to make reply, a rush of light feet on the pavement informed her that Lucy had left her. Through the dusk she could just distinguish a little figure fleeing madly up the quiet street. She laughed softly as it turned a corner and disappeared. She had already done much toward avenging the wrongs she had received at the hands of Marjorie Dean.
CHAPTER XVIII—NOT AT HOME?
“Marjorie, have you seen Lucy Warner?” Jerry Macy stepped inside the candy booth, her plump face alive with concern. “It’s half past eight and she’s not here. The girls in her booth are wondering what has happened to her.”
“Why, no, I haven’t.” Marjorie’s features mirrored Jerry’s anxious look. “I know she had some work to do for Miss Archer this afternoon. She told me so. She said, too, it was her turn at the nursery.”
“That’s so.” Jerry looked thoughtful. “I was to go there, too, but I was so busy I asked Irma to appoint a substitute. I don’t know who went in my place. I’d better see Irma and find out. Whichever Lookout took my turn may know what’s keeping Lucy away.” Bustling off in search of Irma, Jerry accosted her with: “Who subbed for me to-day at the nursery?”
“Mignon La Salle,” returned Irma placidly.
“What!” ejaculated Jerry. As the revue was in progress she cautiously lowered her tone as she continued: “For goodness sake, Irma, why in the world did you send Mignon? No wonder Lucy hasn’t put in an appearance!”
“What are you talking about, Jeremiah, and why should I not have sent Mignon? Lucy is too sensible a girl to allow Mignon’s airs to annoy her, if that’s what you are thinking of. Besides, Mignon was really nice about saying she’d go,” defended Irma in a mildly injured tone.
“I don’t doubt it,” was Jerry’s satirical retort. “Don’t mind me, Irma. I’m not blaming you for it. It’s just one of those beautiful ‘vicissitudes’ that are always bound to jump up and hit a person in the face. Just like that!” Jerry made a comic gesture of despair and beat a hasty course toward the candy booth.