"I must get that situation in Oxford Street," muttered the girl to herself. "I shall feel fit to kill those two if ever they are wed, and the further I am off the better."
Her angry and excited feelings gave her courage, and she was able to ask a comparative stranger—a girl who scarcely knew her—if she could see Mr. Shaw.
"I am afraid you cannot to-day," was the reply. "The manager is too busy, but if you like to call again——"
"No, no, I see him there. I'll ask him myself," was the reply.
"Lor', what cheek!" muttered the new shop-girl; but Alison was too far away to hear her.
She had approached Mr. Shaw as he was wishing one of his customers "A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year." He turned round with a smile on his lips. Things were doing remarkably well, and he could afford to be cheerful. Suddenly his rather staring, bloodshot eyes encountered the full gaze of Alison's clear blue ones.
"Eh, Miss Reed?" he said, stepping back in astonishment.
"Yes, sir; can I speak to you?" said Alison.
"Certainly, my dear, certainly; come this way. She has found out who the thief is, and will come back once more," muttered the manager to himself. "She's the best and most attractive shopwoman I ever had; she shall come back immediately after Christmas."
He hurried Alison through the shop into his own little counting-house. He shut the door then, and asked her to seat herself.