as they lay on the drawn linen cover to the chiffonier, she went over
and picked them up to see how much damage they'd done. Then she frowned,
peered at the paper label that had half peeled off of the topmost cover,
and read what was written on it.

"Who," she asked with considerable emphasis, "is Rosalind Stanton?"

"Oh," said Rodney very casually, behind the worst imitation of a yawn
she had ever seen, "oh, she got put off the car when I did."

"That sounds rather exciting," said Frederica behind an imitation yawn
of her own--but a better one. "Going to tell me about it?"

"Nothing much to tell," said Rodney. "There was a row about a fare, as I
said. The conductor was evidently solid concrete above the collar-bone,
and didn't think she'd paid. And she grabbed him and very nearly threw
him out into the street--could have done it, I believe, as easily as
not. And he began to talk about punching somebody's head. And then, we
both got put off. So, naturally, I walked with her over to the elevated.
And then I forgot to give her her note-books and came away with them."

"What sort of looking girl?" asked Frederica. "Is she pretty?"

"Why, I don't know," said Rodney judicially. "Really, you know, I hardly
got a fair look at her."

Frederica made a funny sounding laugh and wished him an abrupt "good
night."

She was a great old girl, Frederica--pretty wise about lots of things,