"Nary a troubadour," she replied. "I haven't seen another soul except a pathetic little woman who came up to the hotel yesterday afternoon to sell the most exquisite things you ever saw. Think of offering hand-made lingerie, of sheer, embroidered lawn and batiste and linen, to that crowd! The old ladies weren't interested, the spinsters sniffed, the widow wept, and only the divorcée took any notice of it. The prices were so ridiculous that I wouldn't let her unpack the box. I'd be ashamed to pay her the price she asked. It's made by a little lame girl up the main road. I'm to go up there sometime next week."
"Fairy godmother?" asked Allan, good-naturedly. He had known Eloise for many years.
"Perhaps," she answered, somewhat shamefaced. "What's the use of having money if you don't spend it?"
A Human Interest
They went into the hotel together, utterly oblivious of the eight pairs of curious eyes that were fastened upon them in a frank, open stare. The rocking-chairs scraped on the veranda as they instinctively drew closer together. A strong human interest, imperatively demanding immediate discussion, had come to Riverdale-by-the-Sea.
VI
A Letter
Discouraging Prospects