“I had the worst time getting it open, this box,” she complained. “The locks, they were strong.
“But, look!”
She held up a curious sort of banner on which was pictured a Chinese lady holding out her hand so that a flock of bright colored butterflies might light on it.
“Only a dusty Chinese banner!” Florence was disappointed. “Is there anything else?”
“Many more like this. Always the picture is different. I love them. They are so odd!”
“You may have them.” Florence was very weary. She began disrobing for the night.
“See! Here is a jolly little bell!” A mellow tinkle rang out.
Florence laughed. “Bronze. You can buy one just like it at the Chink store on Wabash. It’s too bad, little old sister.” She put her arms affectionately about her slender companion. “We have lost the best thing—a three-bladed dagger set with rubies and diamonds.
“But cheer up!” She tossed back the bed covers. “To-morrow will come. And after that another to-morrow. I shall never forget that long-eared Chinaman. And if we meet!” She made a gesture of violence.
“Besides,” she added as she crept into bed, “there are many more boxes to be sold in the future. Better luck next time.”