Once he turned to see if his friends were still watching him. They
were, two among many; for the exploit had gone round, and there were
other wagers being laid on the result. While his head was turned, and
his grin was directed at the club window, a handsome young woman in
blue came along. She paused, touched her lips with her gloved hand
meditatingly, and then went right-about-face swiftly. Some one in the
window motioned frantically to the vender, but he did not understand.
Ten minutes left in which to win his bet. He hadn't made a very good
bargain. Hm! The young woman in blue was stopping. Her exquisite
face was perfectly serious as her eyes ran over the collection on the
tray. They were all done execrably, something Fitzgerald hadn't
noticed before.

"How much are these apiece?"

"Er--twenty-five cents, ma'am," he stammered. As a matter of fact he
hadn't any idea what the current price list was.

"You seem very well dressed," doubtfully; "and you do not look hungry."

"I am doing this for charity's sake," finding his wits. The policeman
hovered near, scowling. He was powerless, since the young woman had
spoken first.

"Charity," in a half-articulated voice, as if the word to her possessed
many angles, and she was endeavoring to find the proper one to fit the
moment.

"What organization?"