“Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” they chorused in return.
CHAPTER XXV
WHAT THE BROWN BAG HELD
At the precise moment that the four companions in the great city hotel rose to offer each other their Christmas greetings, Florence and Meg stood over the fascinating bag which had cost Florence so much worry and trouble. As Florence felt in her purse for the key she found herself wondering for the hundredth time what it might contain.
“Christmas, my Christmas secret,” she whispered. Then, as she felt the key within her grasp, she turned resolutely to the task. Although she had looked forward to this hour with pleasure, now it seemed to hold something of a feeling of fear. She was opening a bag which had belonged to another. What might it not contain?
With trembling fingers she broke the seal which had so long and faithfully hidden the secret. Then, with a steadier hand, she inserted the key.
For a full moment after that she stood there in silence. She was saying to herself over and over again: “There is nothing, nothing, nothing in there that I shall care for. Nothing, nothing, nothing.”
Thus fortified against disappointment, she at last turned the key, pulled the flap and threw the bag wide open.
The first look brought a glimpse of a bit of negligee. Nothing so exciting in this.
“Well anyway,” sighed Florence, “it—wasn’t a man’s bag. It could not have belonged to that—that man.”
“No,” said Meg, “it couldn’t.”