Grace was smiling but something a little wistful in her tone caused Miss Reynolds to regard her with keen scrutiny.
“Do you know, you’ve come into my mind frequently since our meeting at the store? I’ve thought of you—uncommercially, I mean, if that’s the way to put it! I’d like to know you better.”
“Oh, thank you, Miss Reynolds; I’ve thought of you, too, and have hoped you’d come into Shipley’s again.”
“Oh, clothes don’t interest me a particle; I may not visit Shipley’s again for years! But that doesn’t mean I shan’t see you. I wonder if you’d come to my house some evening for dinner—just ourselves. Would that bore you?”
“It certainly wouldn’t!” Grace responded smilingly.
“The sooner the better then! Tomorrow evening shall we say? Don’t think of dressing. Come direct from your work. Here’s my address on this card. I’ll send my motor for you.”
“Please don’t trouble to do that! I can easily come out on the street-car.”
“Suit yourself. It’s almost like kidnapping and—it just occurs to me that I don’t really know your name!” Her ignorance of Grace’s name greatly amused Miss Reynolds. “For all you know this might be a scheme to snare you to my house and murder you!”
“I’ll cheerfully take the chance!” laughed Grace, and gave her name. The minister had now finished with Ethel, and Grace introduced her sister to Miss Reynolds, who did not, however, include Ethel in her invitation to dinner.
“She charmingly eccentric,” Ethel remarked as Miss Reynolds turned away. “And awfully rich; one of the richest woman taxpayers in the state.”