“Good for you!” cried Lizzie, with one of her laughs, as she followed her teacher.

“And you didn’t get ahead o’ me this time, either!” called out Becky, as she bolted the door upon herself and companion.

“You’re too sharp for any of us, Becky,” called back one of the saleswomen.

“Ain’t she sharp?” agreed one and another; and “I told you so,” said still another.  “She’s a regular little cove-sharper, as Lotty said.”  Lotty was the older parcel-girl.

And thus, though most of them laughed at Becky’s last “move,” they were prejudiced against her for it, and thought it another evidence of her stinginess and sharpness.  They all agreed, however, that she had “got ‘round’ Lizzie to that extent that that young woman would stand up for her, anyway, no matter what she’d do or didn’t do.

“An’ I’ll bet yer,” said the younger parcel-girl, “she’ll lie out o’ that basket bizness, an’ get a lot o’ paper too. She know how to make baskets!  Not much.  You see now when they come out o’ the fitting-room there’ll be some excuse that ‘t ain’t done, an’ they can’t show it now,—­you see.”

This prophecy was received in silence, but without much sign of disagreement; and when the fitting-room door finally opened, it was funny to watch the looks of astonishment that were bestowed upon the pretty little basket of green and white paper that Lizzie held swung upon her finger.

“Well, I never!  She did know how, didn’t she?” exclaimed one of the party.

[Illustration:  the pretty little basket of green and white paper]

“Of course she did,” answered Lizzie.

Becky only shrugged her shoulders disdainfully.

“Bet yer she hooked it out o’ some shop, and had it in that bag she carried in,” whispered Lotty Riker, the parcel-girl.

“Hush!” warned one of the company.

But it was too late.  Becky had heard, and for the first time since she had been in the store, those about her saw hot wrath blazing from her eyes as she burst forth savagely,—­

“Yer mean low-lived thing yer, yer must be up to sech tricks yerself to think that!”

“What is it?  What did she say?” asked Lizzie.

Becky repeated Lotty’s words, her wrath increasing as she did so.

“Hooked it!  You know better, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself, Lotty Riker,” said Lizzie.  “Becky and I made the basket ourselves.  See here now!” and, opening one hand, she displayed the ends of the paper strips as they had been cut off, and where they fitted the protruding ends on the basket.  “But,” turning to Becky, “Lotty knows better; she only wanted to bother you.”