“Some day,” she hummed, “some day!”

She even turned in at Tiffany’s seductive door.  Colour was a madness with her, and her little cries of delight over a sapphire encouraged a young clerk to take it out of the case and lay it on the velvet square.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful it hurts!” Bambi exclaimed.

He smiled at her sympathetically.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?  Are you interested in jewels?” he added.

“I am interested, but I am not a buyer,” she admitted to him.  “I adore colour.”

“Let me show you some things,” he said.

“Oh, no.  I mustn’t take up your time.”

“That’s all right.  I have nothing else to do just now.”

So he laid before her enraptured gaze the wealth of the Indies—­the treasure baubles of a hundred queens—­blue and green, and red and yellow, they gleamed at her.  In an instinctive gesture she put out her hand, then drew it back quickly.

“Mustn’t touch?” she asked, so like a child that he laughed.

“Take it up if you like.”

She took the superb emerald.  “Do you suppose it knows how beautiful it is?”

“It takes a fine colour on your hand.  Some people kill stones, you know.  You ought to wear them.”

He told her some of the history of the jewels he showed her.  He explained how stones were judged.  He described the precautions necessary when famous jewels were to be taken from one place to another.  Bambi sat hypnotized, and listened.  She might have spent the entire day there if the man had not been called by an important customer.  “I have been here hours, haven’t I?  I feel as if I ought to buy something.  Could you show me something about $1.55?” The man laughed so spontaneously and Bambi joined him so gayly, that they felt most friendly.

“Come in next week.  I’ll show you a most gorgeous string of pearls which is coming to be restrung,” he said.

“Oh, thank you.  I have had such a good time.”

He took her to the door as if she were a Vanderbilt, and bowed her out.  The carriage man bowed, too, and Bambi felt that she was getting on.

This time she loitered no longer.  She inspected her address for the hundredth time, and went to the magazine office, where she was to find the golden egg.  She was impressed by the elegance of the busy reception room, with its mahogany and good pictures.  She sent her card to the editor and waited fifteen minutes, then the card bearer returned.  She was sorry, but the editor was extremely occupied this morning.  Was there anything she could do for Mrs. Jocelyn?  Bambi’s face registered her disappointment.

“Would it do any good for me to wait?”

“Have you a letter of introduction?  Mr. Strong seemed not to know your name.”

“He told me to come.”

“Told you?  How do you mean?”

Bambi offered the letter to her.  As she read it her face changed.