It was Christmas Eve. Elizabeth Compton and Harriet Holden were
completing the rounds of their friends' homes with Christmas
remembrances--a custom that they had continued since childhood. The
last parcel had been delivered upon the South Side, and they were now
being driven north on Michigan Boulevard toward home. Elizabeth directed
the chauffeur to turn over Van Buren to State, which at this season of
the year was almost alive with belated Christmas shoppers and those
other thousands who always seize upon the slightest pretext for a
celebration.

It was a noisy, joyous crowd whose spirit, harmonizing with the bright
lights and the gay shop windows, infected all who came within its
influence. As the car moved slowly northward along the world's greatest
retail street the girls leaned forward to watch the passing throng
through the windows.

"Isn't it wonderful," exclaimed Harriet, "what a transformation a few
lights make? Who would ever think of State Street as a fairy-land? And
yet, if you half close your eyes the hallucination is complete. Even the
people who by daylight are shoddy and care-worn take on an appearance of
romance and gaiety, and the tawdry colored lights are the scintillant
gems of the garden of a fairy prince."

"Don't!" Elizabeth pleaded. "The city night always affects me. It
makes me want to do something adventurous, and on Christmas Eve it is
even worse. If you keep on like that I shall soon be telling David to
drive us up and down State Street all night."

"I wish we didn't have to go home right away," said Harriet. "I feel