“Trixy,” breathed Gloria, “you do love me—a little?”
“A lot. Why shouldn’t I?”
“Oh, you know, I can’t forget Jean’s idea of a country girl!”
“Queer you do forget mine.” Another frank embrace from the “wonderful girl born to gentility” was bestowed upon Gloria. “But run along to Jack. We have posted signs to keep the coast clear, so improve the shining moments. And oh, Gloria,” as her little friend attempted to leave, “be careful to agree with her if you possibly can. The doctor was none too sure of her condition.”
“I’ll promise everything but my one chum,” said Gloria, “and neither Jack nor Mary can have her.”
“Nor my little Glo girl, either,” returned Trixy, still beaming her affection. “Somehow, I’ll be rather glad to have her all to myself for a little vacation. But aren’t we ‘crushy’?” laughed the older girl affecting a foolish pose.
“As if something threatened to separate us.”
“Run along before I weep——”
“This time sure.”
When the door closed Trixy went over to Gloria’s dresser. As if reflecting, uncertainly, she opened the drawer and drew out a little Japanese basket. Removing the cover by its beaded tassel, she gazed upon the largest and most noticeable article within. It was the string of jade beads, sent anonymously to Gloria and which she had never worn.