"For goodness' sake don't, Claudia." Mrs. Warrick got up; some one
at the telephone wanted her. "I passed one of those downtown stores
once, and the crowd in it was something awful. You never know what
kind of disease you might catch, and the people are so pushy. All
the nice stores have Christmas things."

"I don't doubt it." Claudia smiled. "But Brooke Bank people have
ideas of their own. Their demands are many, and their dollars few.
And, then, I love to see the crowd. Their pennies are as important
as our pounds, and to watch their spending is the best kind of a
play."

"Where did you say you came from?" Miss French surveyed the girl in
front of her with sudden interest. Something new under the sun was
ever the quest of her inquiries and pursuits, and as if she had
possibly found it she looked closer at her friend's guest. Not the
youth, not the fair skin now flushed with color that came and went,
nor the long dark lashes, nor perfect teeth, nor anything that could
be named made the girl distinctive, but something well-defined and
penetrating. Again she asked the question. "Where did you say you
were from?"

"From Virginia. Have you ever been there?"

Miss French shook her head.

Claudia sat up. In her eyes no longer laughter, and incredulity that
was genuine. "You mean you _never_ have been to Virginia?"

"Never."