“Why, where did you get your cranky ideas? O, I forget,—you still live in Chicago, which city, as I believe, has known many changes, and, I suppose, the people who inhabit the dear old place must of course change with it. But Harrisburg is a rather conservative town, you know, and radical or progressive ideas are not much indulged in by its people. How is it? am I right? have you been imbibing some of these new foolish notions?”
Imelda smiled. This little chatterbox was rattling on at a great rate, on a subject she evidently knew little about, and had already exhausted her store of knowledge. What would she think if she knew exactly what Imelda’s views at present were? The girl behind the counter had an idea that her visitor would be somewhat shocked. So she only answered:
“Maybe I have, it is in the air, you know, like a contagious disease.” Alice laughed.
“Is it dangerous?” she asked, but not waiting for a reply she continued:
“Have you time? I would like to have you with me this evening so that we could enjoy a quiet dinner together. May I call for you?”
A flush stole over the pale face. When had such a pleasure ever been offered her? For a moment she hesitated, then threw scruples to the winds.
“Yes; you may come. I will be ready. This is indeed kind of you to make me such an offer, and I assure you I shall appreciate it.”
The dainty gloved hand was raised in a mock threatening manner.
“If you speak again in that strain I shall punish you by failing to put in an appearance. But I must not forget—your address, please.” Imelda wrote name of street and number on a slip of paper and Alice Westcot tripped down the aisle and out to where her carriage was in waiting. Imelda’s lips quivered as she watched the friend of former days pass out.
There were but few of the girls in the store now who had known Alice. The few who had seen the meeting between the two wondered who the richly attired lady could be who was on intimate terms with the sad faced but well liked companion and co-worker who had a smile and kind word for all but who made friends with none—none except the jolly, mirth-loving but proud Margaret Leland.