The instant she entered her room she shot an anxious look toward Verna’s bed. Then she heaved a sigh of relief. Verna was sleeping peacefully. A single tear that glistened on her cheek detracted not one whit from her beauty.
The big girl smiled as her eyes fell upon the crumpled fairy’s wings that lay upon a chair. “Wings all crumpled but the fairy’s safe, tha—thank God!” She choked a little over these last words.
For a long time after her light was out, she lay in her bed looking at the moon shining through her window. Had one been present who could see in the dark, he might have found her lips smiling. Florence was large, too large and strong for a girl. Many a time she had shed bitter tears over this. Many a time too she had looked upon her slim and willowy sisters and felt her heart burn with envy. But tonight as she stirred beneath the covers, as she sensed the glorious strength of her arms, her limbs, her whole superb body, she was filled with such a warmth of gladness as one does not soon forget.
“Thank you, God!” she whispered. “Thanks for making me big and strong!” At that she fell asleep.
And tomorrow was another day.
Back in Chicago the night was not over for the little French girl. To her unutterable surprise, she had discovered among the dancing girls of the Ballet Russe the dark lady who she believed was the industrial spy. At once Jeanne had stepped from her place and vanished.
How she managed to make her way unchallenged to the wings of the stage, she will never quite know. Enough that she at last was there, nor, unless carried away by the heels, would she budge from the place until she had gotten one good look at that mysterious lady.
“And after that,” she told herself, “I shall call the police.”
By the time she had made her way to the wings of the stage, the last production of the evening, “The Beautiful Blue Danube,” had begun. Nothing ever done by the Ballet Russe is more charming than the Blue Danube. The music and dancing were so lovely that for a space of time Jeanne quite forgot her mission. But not for long. Soon her eyes were upon the dancing girls. As, swinging and swaying, rising on tip-toe, seeming to float in air, they approached her, she caught her breath, then whispered: “It is this one. No, that one—or that one.”
In the end, to her great disappointment, she discovered that it was not one of them all. They all had perfect ears.