Marion whispered the words as she sprang out of bed. After a hasty glance about the room she was more astonished than ever.
Not only had her companion left her alone in the hotel, but she had taken every article of Marion’s homely wardrobe, leaving her own expensive garments in exchange for the poor ones.
Marion sat down in amazement to think over the situation. Suddenly she remembered her money and sprang up to look for her reticule.
She was horror struck when she found that gone also. In its place was Miss Gray’s expensive pocket-book. She opened it quickly. It contained the contents of her bag minus forty dollars. Marion looked at the lone five-dollar bill in despair.
“Well, if this doesn’t beat all!” she said aloud. Then in spite of her dismay she burst out laughing, and the result was wonderful—her courage came back to her.
“I guess I have the best of the bargain after all,” she went on as she looked at the clothing, “but it will never do for me to go to see uncle in that dress! He would be suspicious of me right away! As like as not he would think I had stolen it.”
She mused a little longer and then began to dress. It was evident that she must wear Miss Gray’s gown for awhile, at least, and at last she became curious to see how she would look in it.
“It fits as if it was made for me,” she whispered as she tripped over to the mirror. “We must be nearly the same size, for even her shoes are just my number.”
She glanced down at her little foot with a feeling of pride—it was the first time she had ever worn any shoes but “cowhides.”
When the dainty, graceful girl was fully arrayed in the stylish garments she could not help flushing with pride at her pretty reflection. A beautifully made suit of rich, blue crepon, a dainty hat, gloves, veil and tan shoes made up a far prettier costume than she had ever hoped to wear, and surely she was justified in taking the good of it, for it was no fault of hers that Miss Gray preferred homespun.