“Is this Miss Lucas? Miss Jeanette Lucas?” Cis asked. “Please hold your receiver. I’m connecting you on a wire. It’s something you must hear. Go ahead.”
Then Cis dropped her face into her hands and sat quite still, as if she were waiting for the stroke of fate. No stroke fell, however; the call for Boulevard 12 was rung off; Cis noted the excess rate, which was considerable, and notified the public station whence the call had come, of the amount due. She half expected to be called by Jeanette Lucas, impersonally, as “Central,” but no such call came, and when the office clock pointed to ten, Cicely arose, doffed her “bridle,” and turned to Mimi.
“See here, Mimi,” she said, “I never did think there was much use in asking a girl for a solemn promise to keep a secret. If you tell her you don’t want something told she won’t tell it, if she’s white; if she’s any other color all the promises this side of Jericho won’t stop her talking. Now, of course you know I did something to-night that’s dead against the rules, but I tell you that it was the only decent thing to do, and whatever happened I knew I had to do it, and I’d do it again this minute, because it was right. I’ve had time to think it over, and I’m surer every instant that I did the square thing. That’s all I can tell you, or anyone, because the rest is none of our business. I don’t want you to tell a living soul what you saw and heard; I ask you not to. And that’s all I can do about it. If you keep your tongue between your teeth I’ll not forget it of you, and I’ll do you a good turn the first chance I get. Signed: Cicely Adair.”
Mimi laughed. “Sent special? All right; I got it. Say, Cis, Amelia ’n me ’s pals, but I’m not with her ’bout you. She’s jealous, that’s what’s eatin’ ’Melia. I ain’t; I don’t haf to be! I won’t tell. It’s a rich one, but I won’t tell; honest, cross m’ heart! The comp’ny wouldn’t do a thing to you if they heard it, I’ll tell the world! Don’t you worry, Cis; I like you; you’re a great one. I’ll never give you away, don’t you fret! Gee! What d’you s’pose ’Melia’d do to you if she had you down like this! She says you think you’re the cat’s miauw. She’d give you a miauw, I’ll say she would!”
“Thanks, Mimi. It’s straight of you to keep this to yourself. Good night,” said Cis, and went away. “Little snipe! Sure she’ll tell Amelia!” she thought as she walked rapidly down the quiet street.
The next day passed without anything unusual to mark it, to Cicely’s surprise. She felt that anything and everything were imminent, but nothing more exciting befell her than being one bag of peanuts short in her noon distribution to her gamin friends, owing to the unforeseen appearance of Tony Caprioli’s little brother, who had to be compensated with a nickel. It was a perfectly satisfactory substitute, Cis found to her relief, mainly because Tony divided his peanuts with the young Luigi, who thus came out well ahead of the game.
The second day, however, Cicely’s bright head fell under the guillotine, a martyr to a certain kind of nobility which makes the figure of the guillotine not unsuitable.
When Cis came into the office, nearly ten minutes ahead of her schedule, there fell upon all the girls that significant hush which eloquently declares by its silence that the newcomer has been the subject of conversation up to the moment when the door swung. Amelia’s face was red beyond and additionally to the paint which frankly adorned her cheeks and lips; she looked malevolent and triumphant. Nan was flushed, almost purpling; her eyes were nervously excited and tearful. All the other girls looked uncomfortable, and most of them looked regretful, Cis was glad to see, for she instantly knew what had happened.
“I’m workin’ double shift, Cis; no need you settin’ down. I’m doin’ your shift till the next orders. You’re to go to th’ office soon’s you show up,” said Amelia gloatingly.
“Well, they were slow about it!” exclaimed Cis swinging around. “I thought I’d hear this yesterday.”