“Why, Pauline,” Irene exclaimed, “I thought——”
“Never mind what you thought,” Judy interrupted. She knew that Irene had been about to say she thought Pauline wanted to meet interesting people. Then Dale would know she thought him interesting, and that wouldn’t be a very good thing to reveal right then. But Judy spoke more sharply than she realized, and her tone held the smallest hint of suspicion.
Irene’s expressive eyes were dark with reproach. “Judy!” she cried, almost in tears, “Now what have I done to offend you?”
“Nothing, dear. Nothing at all. I’m just tired.”
“You must be tired,” Dale put in. “Who wouldn’t be, after such a hectic day? But why take it out on Irene? She isn’t to blame if Her Majesty makes a grouch of herself.”
“Of course not,” Judy agreed, not quite sure that she spoke the truth. Certainly Irene had had something to do with Emily Grimshaw’s grouch for the old lady had not been herself since the moment she set eyes on the dainty figure in yellow, curled on her sofa in the office that morning.
“You don’t know the half of it,” she went on to explain. “Her Majesty, as you call her, acted queer and talked to herself like a crazy person all day. I didn’t dare speak to her for fear she’d go off in a fit again. She thinks someone, or something, came into the office. Did you ever hear of a person named Joy Holiday?”
“No, never,” Dale replied.
Then Judy turned to Irene. “Did you?”
“You know I didn’t,” she replied in surprise. “Why, Judy, you know everyone I know at home, and I have no friends here except Pauline. Why do you ask?”