Somewhat to her annoyance, she found the delicatessen packed with students waiting their turn to be supplied with eatables. The term had ended, and those who were too far from home to take the holidays away from the University were boarding themselves.
After sinking rather wearily into a corner seat, Lucile found her mind slipping back over the days that had just flown.
“To-morrow,” she told herself soberly, “is the day before Christmas. It is my last day at the store. And then? Oh, bother the ‘and then’! There’s always a future, and always it comes out somehow.”
That she might not be depressed by thoughts of the low state of her finances, she filled her mind with day dreams. In these dreams she saw herself insisting that Cordie reveal to her the secret hiding place of the Mystery Lady. Having searched this lady out, she demanded the return of her well worn, but comfortable, coat. In the dream still she saw the lady throw up her hands to exclaim:
“That frayed thing? I gave it to the rag man!”
Then in a rage she, Lucile, stamps her foot and says: “How could you! Of course now I shall keep your cape of fox skin and Siberian squirrel.”
“Ah,” she whispered, “that was a beautiful dream!”
Glancing up, she saw there were still six customers ahead of her and she must wait for her turn.
“Time for another,” she whispered.
This time it was the Lady of the Christmas Spirit. She saw her among the throngs at the store. Feeling sure that this must be the very person, that she might steal a look at her hands, she followed her from department to department. Upstairs and downstairs they went. More than once she caught the lady throwing back a mocking glance at her.