“Not so much of a scream for me,” grumbled Laurie. “I gave you my pass-out. Then after knocking nearly all the skin off my hand going down the bundle chute, I had to sleep in the basement, with corrugated paper for mattress and covers.”
“Poor old Laurie!” smiled Miss Diurno. “But you deserved all you got. Think of the role you have been playing! Think! Just think!” laughed the pianist.
“You see,” she said, turning to Lucile to explain her presence in the store that night, “I had promised to be in the store six hours that day. Then I allowed myself to become absorbed in some new music, and the first thing I knew it was getting late in the afternoon and my six hours not yet begun. Of course there was nothing for it but to remain in the store after closing hours. I hid in that long narrow place, wedged myself between book shelves and stands, then stuck there until the clock struck ten.
“I hadn’t realized that it would be hard to get out. When I did think of it I was terror-stricken. To think of remaining in that great vault of a store all night! Ugh! It gives me the shivers to think of it, even now. I haven’t the least notion what I would have done if I hadn’t come upon good old Laurie. He gave me his pass-out. You saw him do it. I knew this at the time, and I think you were a great little sport not to raise a big rumpus, especially after I took your coat.”
“Why did you take my coat?” asked Lucile.
“I was afraid I couldn’t get out in that fur cape. And besides, I wanted just such a coat as yours for the next day’s stunt. So I traded with you. That was fair enough, wasn’t it?”
“Traded? What do you mean?”
“Just what I said, just traded, and thanked you for the opportunity. And now, my dear, that makes three questions.”
“Three,” Lucile cried excitedly. “Why no, I’ve only asked one.”
“Leave it to the crowd,” beamed the great little lady.