“But I saw such pretty things in there,” she insisted secretly.  “I must go back and get some of them.”

Timidly she approached the jewelry counter.  Surely the clerks, or Miss Allen, at least, recognized her.  The latter stepped directly up to the place where Dorothy stood.

“Good-morning,” began the clerk, smiling pleasantly.  “What can I do for you?”

Dorothy was hardly ready to make her purchases.  She answered the greeting and said so.  Then Miss Allen leaned over the counter.

“I wanted to tell you that Miss Dearing, the woman detective, has been discharged.”

“Oh, has she?” asked Dorothy.  “I’m sorry.”

“Well, you needn’t be,” Miss Allen assured her.  “She didn’t much care how you fared.”

“But she only made a mistake,” pleaded Dorothy.

“Perhaps,” and Miss Allen shrugged her shoulders; “but she took the trouble to come to me and ask your address.”

“My address!”

“Yes; wanted it awfully bad, too.  I wouldn’t take any customer’s address off a tag; not for all the detectives in the house.  But I happen to know some one else did.”

“But what did she want my address for?” asked Dorothy as quietly as her voice could speak in spite of her agitation.

“Don’t know,” replied the clerk, indicating she might be able to guess; “but it might be handy some day.  When she gets time to think it over, you know.”

Dorothy was now almost as greatly mystified as she had been when the woman on the train spoke of Tavia.  But Miss Allen went to wait on another customer, and when Dorothy had finally succeeded in selecting some trinkets she left the counter with Miss Allen’s words ringing in her ears.

“Whatever does it all mean?” she asked herself.  It was some time before she had her answer.

CHAPTER X

THE THORNS OF A HOLLY WREATH

“Loafing is not resting; labor is the grindstone of life’s dull edges,” quoted Dorothy Dale on the evening of her return from the city.

“Copyrighted?” asked Tavia in a grave tone of voice.

“No; but all rights are reserved,” answered her chum.  “It took me all the way from the city to North Birchland station to work that out.  What do you think of it?”

“Great for the grindstone, but hard on life,” commented Tavia.  “No sharpening for mine.  I make it ’Labor is the sharp knife that cuts all the good things out of life.’”

“But your motto will not stand the test,” declared Dorothy.  “I happen to know—­I found out to-day.  Going in on the train I ‘loafed’ all the way, and the process tired me.  Coming out I was tired from shopping, and that tire rested me.”

“Well, if you’re all right, I’m glad I’m crazy,” declared Tavia facetiously.  “There’s just one thing I want to get to heaven for—­one great, long, delicious loaf!  If I cannot rest without labor, then please pass along the ‘loaf.’”