“Well, of course not!” Miss Cashell said quickly, “but—­”

“No, you’re doing the dignified thing, Violet,” Miss Thornton said, with approval, “and you’ll feel glad, later on, that you acted this way.  And, as far as my carrying tales, I never carried one.  I did say that I thought I knew why you were leaving, and I don’t deny it--Use my powder, right there by the mirror—­But as far as anything else goes—­”

“We’re both going,” Elsie said.  “I wouldn’t take another dollar of their dirty money if I was starving!  Come on, Vi.”

And a few minutes later they all said a somewhat subdued and embarrassed farewell to the Misses Kirk, who went down the stairs, veiled and silent, and out of the world of Hunter, Baxter & Hunter’s forever.

“Will she sue him, Thorny?” asked Susan, awed.

“Sue him?  For what?  She’s not got anything to sue for.”  Miss Thornton examined a finger nail critically.  “This isn’t the first time this has happened down here,” she said.  “There was a lovely girl here—­but she wasn’t such a fool as Violet is.  She kept her mouth shut.  Violet went down to Phil Hunter’s office this morning, and made a perfect scene.  He’s going on East to meet his wife you know; it must have been terribly embarrassing for him!  Then old J.G. sent for Violet, and told her that there’d been a great many errors in the crediting, and showed ’em to her, too!  Poor kid—­”

Susan went wondering back to Front Office.  The crediting should be hers, now, by all rights!  But she felt only sorry, and sore, and puzzled.  “She wanted a good time and pretty things,” said Susan to herself.  Just as Susan herself wanted this delightful afternoon with Peter Coleman!  “How much money has to do with life!” the girl thought.

But even the morning’s events did not cloud the afternoon.  She met Peter at the door of Mr. Baxter’s office, and they went laughing out into the clear winter sunshine together.

Where first?  To Roos Brothers, for one of the new folding trunks.  Quite near enough to walk, they decided, joining the released throng of office workers who were streaming up to Kearney Street and the theater district.

The trunk was found, and a very smart pigskin toilet-case to go in the trunk; Susan found a sort of fascination in the ease with which a person of Peter’s income could add a box of silk socks to his purchase, because their color chanced to strike his fancy, could add two or three handsome ties.  They strolled along Kearney Street and Post Street, and Susan selected an enormous bunch of violets at Podesta and Baldocchi’s, declining the unwholesome-looking orchid that was Peter’s choice.  They bought a camera, which was left that a neat “P.W.C.” might be stamped upon it, and went into Shreve’s, a place always fascinating to Susan, to leave Mr. Coleman’s watch to be regulated, and look at new scarf-pins.  And finally they wandered up into “Chinatown,” as the Chinese quarter was called, laughing all the way, and keenly alert for any little odd occurrence in the crowded streets.  At Sing Fat’s gorgeous bazaar, Peter bought a mandarin coat for himself, the smiling Oriental bringing its price down from two hundred dollars to less than three-quarters of that sum, and Susan taking a great fancy to a little howling teakwood god; he bought that, too, and they named it “Claude” after much discussion.