“And it must have cost her every penny she possessed,” groaned Lucile. “How extravagant! How—how——”
She wanted to say ungrateful, but could not quite do it. The girl appeared so impractical, so lovable, so irresponsible, that she could not find the heart to blame her.
Quickly she switched her thoughts to a more cheering subject—Laurie Seymour. He had proven such a jolly fellow-worker—so cheerful, so kind and helpful, so ever ready to bear the heavy burdens—that Lucile had all but forgotten the fact that he had given his pass-out to the Mystery Lady on that night when she had in such a surprising manner come into the possession of the valuable fur lined cape. Equally strange was the fact that she had come to think of the Mystery Lady in a new way. She found that she could no longer think of the lady as a thief.
“And yet,” she mused, “what could have been her reason for haunting our store at that hour of the night? Why should she have left the cape?”
The cape. Ah yes, there was vexation enough in that! Too precious to be worn to work, it had hung for days in Lucile’s closet while she had gone to work all too scantily clad in a sweater and broad scarf. She wished that she might have her own coat. Poor as it might be, it was at least her own and it was comfortable.
Next morning, having arrived at the door of the store a full fifteen minutes before the opening hour, the two girls were enjoying a few moments of window shopping before the gorgeous windows of State street. Suddenly, above the rattle of distant elevated trains and the honk of auto horns, Lucile caught clear and distinct the calling neigh of a horse.
Wheeling quickly about, she stared around her. True enough, there were still many horses on the streets of the city, but where before, in the din and rattle of the streets, had she caught that one clear call of a horse?
What she saw caused her to start and stare. Cordie was no longer at her side. Instead she was in imminent danger of being run down by a cab as she dashed madly across the street toward the spot where, like a statue in blue, a young policeman sat rigidly erect on his police horse.
The thing the girl did, once she had safely crossed the street, was even more surprising. Without the least glance at the young policeman, she threw both arms about the horse’s neck and hid her face in his mane.
Far from objecting to this unusual procedure, the horse appeared to rather enjoy it. As for the stern young minion of the law, he was so overcome by surprise that he did not alter his statue-like pose by so much as a movement of a finger.