CHAPTER XI AS SEEN FROM THE STAIRWAY
"Where in the world have you been?" Lucile exclaimed, pouncing uponCordie as soon as she came in sight. "Rennie's been worrying her poor oldhead off about you, and Miss Mones, who's in charge of the checkinggirls, is furious."
"Oh," Cordie drawled, "I was out to lunch. Then I took a spin down thepark on my favorite steed. It's a won-der-ful day outside."
"You'll have a lot of time to spend outside," scolded Lucile, "if youdon't get right back to your stand."
A moment later, having somehow made her peace with Miss Mones, Cordie wasback at her task, rustling paper and snipping cord.
Late that afternoon Lucile was sent to the twelfth floor storeroom tolook up a special order. She enjoyed these trips to the upper realms.This vast storeroom was like a new world to her. As she walked down long,narrow, silent aisles, on either side of which were wired in compartmentspiled high with every conceivable form of merchandise: rugs, piano lamps,dolls, dishes, couches, clothes-pins, and who knows what others, shecould not help feeling that she was in the store house of the world, thatshe was queen of this little ward and that there remained only for her tosay the word and a house would be handsomely furnished, a beautiful brideoutfitted with a trousseau, or a Christmas tree decorated for a score ofhappy children. Yes, these aisles held a charm and fascination all theirown. She liked the silence of the place, too. After the hours oflistening to the constant babble of voices, the murmur of shoppers, thecall of clerks, the answers of floormen, this place seemed the heart ofsilent woods at night.
Captivated by such thoughts as these, and having located the missingbooks and started them on their journey down the elevator, she decided towalk down the nine flights to her own floor.
Here, too, as she skipped lightly down from floor to floor, she caughtlittle intimate glimpses of the various lives that were being lived inthis little world of which she was for a time a part. Here a score ofprinting presses and box making machines were cutting, shaping andprinting containers for all manner of holiday goods. The constant rush ofwheels, the press and thump of things, the wrinkles on the brows ofoperators, all told at what a feverish heat the work was being pushedforward.
One floor lower down the same feverish pace was being set. Here nimblefingers dipped and packed chocolate bon-bons, while from the right andleft of them came the rattle and thump of drums polishing jelly beans andmoulding gum drops at the rate of ten thousand a minute.
Ah yes, there was the Christmas rush for you. But one floor lower downthere was quiet and composure such as one might hope to find in a meadowwhere a single artist, with easel set, sketches a landscape. It was notunlike that either, for the two-score of persons engaged here weresketching, too. The sketches they made with pen and ink and water-colorswere not unattractive. Drawings of house interiors they were; here theheavily furnished office of some money king, and there the light and airyboudoir of one of society's queens; here the modest compartment of ayoung architect who, though of only average means, enjoyed having thingsdone right, and there the many roomed mansion of a steel magnate. Thesesketches were made and then shown to the prospective customer. Thecustomer offered suggestions, made slight changes, then nodded, wrote acheck, and a sale amounting to thousands of dollars was completed.
"That must be fascinating work," Lucile whispered to herself as anartistic looking young woman showed a finished sketch to a customer. "Ithink I'd like that. I believe----"
With a sudden shock her thoughts were cut short. Two persons had enteredthe glassed-in compartment--a woman of thirty and a girl in her lateteens. And of all persons!
"The Mystery Lady and Cordie! It can't be," she breathed, "and yet itis!"
It was, too. None other. What was stranger still, they appeared to havebusiness here. At sight of them one of the artists arose and lifting adrawing which had been standing face to the wall, held it out for theirinspection.
Cordie clasped her hands in very evident ecstasy of delight, and, ifLucile read her lips aright, she exclaimed:
"How perfectly wonderful!"
The expression on the Mystery Lady's face said plainer than words, "Ihoped you'd like it."
The sketch, Lucile could see plainly enough from where she stood, was agirl's room. There was a bed with draperies, a study table ofslender-legged mahogany, a dresser, one great comfortable chairsurprisingly like Lucile's own, some simpler chairs of exquisite design.These furnishings, and such others as only a girl would love, were donein the gay tints that appeal to the springtime of youth.
"Cordie?" Lucile stared incredulously. "A simple country girl, what canshe know about such things? That room--why those furnishings would costhundreds of dollars. It's absurd, impossible; and yet there they are--sheand the Mystery Lady."
The Mystery Lady! At thought of her, Lucile was seized with an almostuncontrollable desire to rush down there and demand the meaning of thatlady's many strange doings. But something held her back. So Cordie wasacquainted with the Mystery Lady! Here was something strange. Indeed,Lucile was beginning to wonder a great deal about Cordie.
"She has her secrets, little Cordie!" exclaimed Lucile. "Who would havethought it?"
Perhaps it is not strange that Lucile did not feel warranted in breakingin upon those secrets. So there she stood, irresolute, until the two ofthem had left the room and lost themselves in the throngs that crowdedevery aisle of this great mart of trade.
"Now," Lucile sighed, "I shan't ever feel quite the same about Cordie. Isuppose, though, she has a right to her secrets. What could she possiblyknow about interior decorating and furnishing? Perhaps more than I wouldguess. But a country girl? What does she know about the Mystery Lady?Little, or much? Have they known each other long? I--I'll ask her.No--n-o-o, I guess I won't. I wasn't supposed to see. It was too muchlike spying. No," this decisively, "I'll just have to let things workthemselves out. And if they don't work out to something like arevelation, then I'll know they haven't, that's all. More than half themysteries of the world are never unravelled at all."
After this bit of reasoning, she hastened on down the remaining flightsof stairs to her work.
"Where's Cordie?" she asked of Laurie.
"Out on a shopping pass. Swell looking dame came in and called for her."There was a knowing grin on Laurie's face as he said this, but Lucile,who had turned to her work, did not notice it.
Cordie returned a few moments later, but not one word did she let fallregarding her shopping mission.