“Better thank her for finding your bead and give her ten cents,” suggested the practical Trixy. “Otherwise, you may not be able to make a satisfactory accounting. Don’t let her suspect what you suspect.”
“A good idea. Listen! I hear her plaintive voice. Let’s have done with it. Lend me exactly a dime.”
“First, put the pirate’s treasure in my jewel box. I’ll be responsible for it and defy its evil eye—until you find the owner,” agreed Trixy affably. Gloria borrowed the dime and thrust it upon the inarticulate Maggie. Money, it seemed, always surprised her into speechlessness.
“And now,” decided Gloria, “I’ll take the ‘evil eye’ down to the office——”
“Suppose it is a real secret, that the owner has some worthy motive in hiding it.”
“Trix, you’re a regular Portia. I do hope you decide to study law. How would you suggest I get rid of the thing?”
“Post a notice, asking the loser of a small red stone to call at this room. We might excite less comment if we said ‘trinket’ instead of ‘stone.’”
“And have every one who lost a hair net, a hairpin, or a barrette, calling,” objected Gloria.
“That’s so. But Maggie may see the notice and recognize her find.”
“She won’t have time to read bulletins today.”