tion to follow after her. There was a silk counter not far distant, The wonderful lady stopped while the polite clerk unfolded yard after yard of shimmering silk. At last he measured off a great glowing heap, and the lady paid for it from a fat roll of bills extracted from her silver bag. Then, followed by the admiring gaze of the clerks and the patter of Lucy's shabby little shoes, she swept to the lace counter.
“‘It’s long’ objected Lucy, feebly.”
Such a consolation was this after the shabby shopping of Lucy’s father! Wherever the lady went—to the gloves and ribbons and scarfs—Lucy was sure to go, a little figure in a bright blue coat that flapped loosely and emptily from knee to ankle and almost tripped up her eager little feet. Once the lady turned and gave the bright face beneath the brown tam-o’-shanter a cold stare. At last the lady started for the door, a side entrance in a quiet corner of the store with only an unattended blanket counter near and a row of smaller doors at the side with ground-glasspanels, marked “Manager’s Office.” As the lady swept through the door to the street, something floated back and away from her to the dusty floor. Lucy darted after and picked it up. It was the long feather boa, so soft and white and sweet-smelling! For a moment Lucy forgot all else, holding it in her little mittened hands. Then, as she stepped forward to go after the lady, still looking at the lovely thing, somebody swooped down and snatched it away from her.
“What do you mean by taking my feather boa?” cried the lady’s voice in her ears—such a shrill voice! Lucy’s red lips parted in surprise as she stared up at her. Then from somewhere a man appeared and laid his hand on her shoulder.
“What is it?” he asked.
“This child has followed me about all the