Soon afterward the cab stopped before Dorothy's cottage again, and, with a shy, sweet smile, she bade her admirer "good-night," and flitted up the steps and into the hall, and directly into the arms of Jessie Staples, who was awaiting her there.
"Oh, Dorothy!" she began, reproachfully, "how could you do it?"
"Do what?" cried Dorothy, with a very innocent air.
"Come riding home from work with that stranger!" cried Jessie, reproachfully.
The gayest laugh that ever was heard broke from Dorothy's ripe red lips, and her blue eyes fairly danced.
"I did not think that you, of all other girls, would be jealous, Jessie Staples!" she declared.
"I am not jealous," responded the girl, quietly—"only I pity you for your want of sense in being fascinated by a handsome stranger, when you have such a lover as honest, warm-hearted Jack Garner, who fairly worships the ground you walk on. Every one knows that—and—and pities him."
Dorothy's red lips curled scornfully, and she turned away on her heel.
"He is only a gilder in the bindery," she declared, "while the one I came home with is a grand high-toned, wealthy young fellow, and so aristocratic. He thought nothing of bringing me home in a cab, while Jack Garner would have fainted at the idea. He is so frightened if he spends a dollar of his hard-earned wages. It's no fun going around with a poor fellow. I hate them! So there!"
With that Jessie took the bill from her pocket, and told all that poor Jack had said about treating to the ice-cream.