CHAPTER XVI

A GREAT DAY

"The day before Christmas! Oh joy! Joy! Joy!"

Lucile leaped out of bed. Throwing off her dream-robe, she went whirling about the room for all the world as if she were playing roll the hoop and she were the hoop.

The day before Christmas! Who cared if room rent was due to-night? Who cared if the school term loomed ahead with little enough cash in her stocking to smooth its way? Who cared about anything? It was the day before Christmas.

This day work would be light. Tommie had said that. Donnie had said it. Rennie and all the others of the sales group who stayed from year to year had said it. What was more, for this one day, if never again, Lucile had resolved to wear the magnificent cape of midnight blue and fox-skin. And at night, when the day was done, the week ended, the season closed, there was to be a wonderful party. A party! Oh joy! A party!

Laurie, the mysterious Laurie Seymour, had invited them, just they of his corner--Donnie and Rennie, Tommie, Cordie and herself.

A grand party it was to be, a supper at Henrici's and after that Laurie was to take them to a symphony concert! And to this party she would wear the midnight blue cape. For one night, one reckless, joyous night, she would travel in the height of style. And then?

"Oh, bother the 'and then'! It's the day before Christmas!" She went through another series of wild whirls that landed her beneath the shower.

When at last she was fully dressed for this last day of work in the book department, Lucile drew on the cape. Then, having told Cordie that she would wait for her outside, she went skipping down the stairs.

It was one of those crisp, snappy, frosty mornings of winter that invite you to inhale deeply of its clear, liquid-like air.

After taking three deep breaths Lucile buried her radiant face in the warm depths of the fox skin.

"How gorgeous," she murmured. "Oh, that I might own it forever!"

Even as she said this all the unanswered questions that grouped themselves about the cape--its owner, and the girl's associates at the store--came trooping back to puzzle her. Who was the Mystery Lady? Why had she left the cape that night? Why did she not return for it later? How had it happened that she was in the store that night at two hours before midnight? Who was Laurie Seymour? Why had he given the Mystery Lady his pass-out? How had he spent that night? What had happened to the vanished author of "Blue Flames"? Who was Cordie? Was she really the poor, innocent little country girl she had thought her? What was to come of her, once the season had closed? Who was the "Spirit of Christmas"? Had she ever seen her? Who would get the two hundred in gold? What had she meant by the crimson trail she left behind? Who was Sam? Why was Laurie so much afraid to meet him? Above all, what were the secrets of the crimson thread and the diamond set iron ring?

Surely here were problems enough to put wrinkles in any brow. But it was the day before Christmas, so, as Cordie came dancing down to a place beside her, Lucile gripped her arm and led away in a sort of hop-skip-and-jump that brought them up breathless at the station.

There was just time to grab a paper before the train came rattling in. Having secured a seat, Lucile hid herself behind her paper. A moment later she was glad for the paper's protection. Had it not been for the paper she felt that half the people on the train might have read her thoughts.

The thing she saw in the Spirit of Christmas column, which daily told of the doings of the lady by that name, was such a startling revelation that she barely escaped a shriek as her eyes fell on it.

"You have been wondering," she read in the column devoted to the lady of the "Christmas Spirit," "what I have been meaning by the crimson trail which I have left behind. Perhaps some of you have guessed the secret. If this is true, you have made little use of that knowledge. None of you have found me. Not one of the hundreds of thousands who have passed me has paused to grip my hand and to whisper: 'You are the Spirit of Christmas.'

"Now I will give you some fresh revelations. It is the day before Christmas. At midnight to-night Christmas comes. As the clock strikes that magic hour my wanderings cease. If no one has claimed my gold by then, no one will.

"I have told you always that hands ofttimes express more than a face. This is true of my hands. They are strange hands. Stranger still are the rings I wear upon them. For days now I have worn an iron ring set with a diamond. Had someone noticed this, read the secret and whispered: 'You are the Spirit of Christmas,' not only should my gold have clinked for him, but the diamond should have been his as well."

Lucile caught her breath as she read this. Here indeed was revelation. Could it be--There was more. She read on.

"As for the crimson trail I have left behind. That is very simple. I marvel that people can be so blind. I have left it everywhere. It is unusual, very unusual, yet I have left it everywhere, in hundreds of places, in newsboys' papers, in shopgirls' books, in curtains, shades, and even in people's garments, yet not one has read the sign. The sign is this: a bit of crimson thread drawn twice through and tied. There is a purple strand in the thread. It is unusual, yet no one has understood; no one has said 'You are the Spirit of Christmas'."

"The crimson thread," Lucile breathed. "Why, then--then the Mystery Lady and the Spirit of Christmas Lady are one, and I have seen her many times. I saw her at two hours before midnight. I sold her a book. Twice I saw her talking to Cordie. I followed her upon the street. Had I but known it I might have whispered to her: 'You are the Spirit of Christmas.' Then the gold would have been mine. Two hundred in gold!" she breathed. "Two hundred in gold! And now it is gone!

"But is it? Is it quite gone yet? There is yet this day, the day before Christmas."

Again her eyes sought the printed page. And this is what she read:

"Today I shall not appear before sunset. Early in the evening, and again between the hours of ten and midnight, I shall be somewhere on the Boulevard. I shall attend the Symphony Concert in Opera Hall."

"The concert," Lucile murmured with great joy. "We, too, are going there to-night. We shall be on the Boulevard. There is yet a chance. And the beauty of it all is I shall know her the instant I see her. Oh! You glorious bag of gold, please, please do wait for me!"

As the car rattled on downtown, her blood cooled and she realized that there was a very slight hope. With these broad hints thrown out to them, all those who had been following the doings of this mysterious lady would be eagerly on the alert. There may have been some, perhaps many, who had found the crimson thread and had marvelled at it. Perhaps, like her, they had seen the Mystery Lady's face and would recognize her if they saw her on the Boulevard. There may have been many who had seen and marvelled at the diamond set iron ring.

"Ah well," Lucile whispered to herself, "there is yet hope. 'Hope springs eternal--'"

At the downtown station she dismissed the subject for matters of more immediate importance, the last great day of sales before Christmas.

Trade until noon was brisk; mostly business men rushing in for "cash and carry." At noon she arranged to have lunch with her old chum, the elevator girl and, because it was the day before Christmas, instead of the crowded employees' lunch room, they chose as their meeting place the tea room which was patronized for the most part by customers. Here, in a secluded corner, they might talk over old times and relate, with bated breath, the events of the immediate past and the future.

Enough there was to tell, too. Lucile's Mystery Lady, who had turned so suddenly into the one of the Christmas Spirit, her Laurie Seymour, her hoped for $200 in gold, her James, the bundle carrier and last but not least, Cordie. And for Florence there was her mystifying double and the bewitching bag that contained her Christmas surprise. Did ever two girls have more to tell in one short noon hour?

As Florence finished her story; as she spoke of seeing her double talking with the broad shouldered man of the seaman-like bearing, Lucile suddenly leaned forward to exclaim:

"Florence, that man must have been our bundle carrier, James. He has told Cordie of his trips upon the sea. There could scarcely be two such men in one store."

"It might be true," smiled Florence, "but don't forget there are two such persons as I am in this store. You never can tell. I'd as soon believe he was the same man. Wouldn't it be thrilling if he should turn out to be a friend of my double's and we should get all mixed up in some sort of affair just because I look exactly like her. Oh, Lucile!" she whispered excitedly, "the day isn't done yet!" And indeed it was not.

"And this man who followed you after you had bought the bag," said Lucile thoughtfully. "He sounds an awful lot like the one who tried to carry Cordie away. Do you suppose----"

"Now you're dreaming," laughed Florence as she reached for her check, then hurried away to her work.