"
Win, not having forgotten her curiosity concerning the red-haired
girl's mysterious murmur to the superintendent, longed to question the
sardine, who had the air of knowing everything she ought and ought not
to know. But the newcomer could not afford to lose a word that dropped
from the nervous teacher's lips. "Do tell me about it later," she
pleaded. "I must listen to this."
"All right. Are you lunching in or out?"
"Oh, in, I suppose."
"So will I, then, though I hear it's filthy and the grub vile. We'll
try and make a date."
Win dared not answer. With difficulty she caught the last part of the
lecture. Then her fifteen minutes of schooling were over and the real
battle of life as one of Peter Rolls's hands was to begin.
No time for the luxury of luncheon appointments. The two girls must
meet or not, as luck ordained. The toy department was on the sixth
floor, so the parting came almost at once, and Win went down to meet
her fate alone.
A floorwalker, or "aisle manager," showed her the place where the
"great two-hour bargain sale of coloured blouses, sashes, and ladies'
fancy neckwear" was advertised to begin at ten-thirty.
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