freezing, and the north side of every lamp post and telegraph pole
was sheeted with ice.

To add to their discomfort, the North State Street cars were
blocked. When they gained the corner of Washington Street they could
see where the congestion began, a few squares distant.

"There's nothing for it," declared Landry, "but to go over and get
the Clarke Street cars--and at that you may have to stand up all the
way home, at this time of day."

They paused, irresolute, a moment on the corner. It was the centre
of the retail quarter. Close at hand a vast dry goods house, built
in the old "iron-front" style, towered from the pavement, and
through its hundreds of windows presented to view a world of stuffs
and fabrics, upholsteries and textiles, kaleidoscopic, gleaming in
the fierce brilliance of a multitude of lights. From each street
doorway was pouring an army of "shoppers," women for the most part;
and these--since the store catered to a rich clientele--fashionably
dressed. Many of them stood for a moment on the threshold of the
storm-doorways, turning up the collars of their sealskins, settling
their hands in their muffs, and searching the street for their
coupes and carriages.

Among the number of those thus engaged, one, suddenly catching sight
of Laura, waved a muff in her direction, then came quickly forward.
It was Mrs. Cressler.

"Laura, my dearest girl! Of all the people. I am so glad to see
you!" She kissed Laura on the cheek, shook hands all around, and