Betty Gordon at Mountain Camp | Page 3

her bag hastily and took out her purse. The purse was made
of cut steel beads and, as Betty often said, "everything stuck to it!"
Something clung to it now as she drew it forth, but neither Betty nor
the shopgirl saw the dangling twist of tissue paper.
"And I'll buy that other one you are knitting," Betty hurried to say as
she shook the purse and dug into it for the silver as well as the bills she
had left after her morning's shopping. "I know that pretty blue will just

look dear on a friend of mine."
She was busy with her money, and the English girl looked on hopefully.
So neither saw the twist of tissue paper fly off the dangling fringe of
beads and land with a soft little "plump" on the floor by the counter.
"Dear me!" breathed the shopgirl, in reply to Betty's promise, "I shall
like that. It will help a good bit--and everything so high in this country.
A dollar, as you say, goes hardly anywhere! And this one will fit you
beautifully. You can see yourself."
"Of course it will. Do it up at once," cried the excited Betty. "Here is
the money. Twelve dollars. I was afraid I didn't have enough. And be
sure and keep that blue one for my friend. Maybe she will come for it
herself, so give me a card or something so she can find the place. Shall
she ask for you?"
"If you please," and the English girl ran to write a card. She brought it
back with the neatly made parcel of the over-blouse and slipped it into
Betty Gordon's hand. The latter thanked her and looked swiftly at the
name the other had written.
"Good-bye, Ida Bellethorne," she said, smiling. "What a fine name! I
hope I can sell some more blouses for you. I'll try."
The shopgirl made a little bow and the silvery bell jangled again as
Betty opened the door. Betty looked back at the English girl, and the
latter looked after Betty. They were both interested, much interested,
the one in the other, and for reasons that neither suspected. Ida
Bellethorne was not much like the girls Betty knew. She seemed even
more sedate than the seniors at Shadyside where Betty had attended
school with the Littell girls since the term had opened in September.
Ida Bellethorne was not, however, in any such happy condition as the
girls Betty Gordon knew. She might have told the warm-hearted
customer who had bought the over-blouse a story that would indeed
have spurred Betty's interest to an even greater degree. But the English
girl was naturally of a secretive disposition, and she was among

strangers.
She turned back into the store when Betty had gone and the door,
swinging shut, set the bell above it jingling again. A door opened at the
end of the room and a tall, aggressive woman in a long, straight,
gingham frock strode into the room. She had very black, heavy brows
that met over her nose and this, with the thick spectacles she wore, gave
her a very stern expression.
"What's the matter with that bell, Ida?" she demanded, in a sharp voice.
"It seems to ring enough, but it doesn't ring any money into my
cash-drawer as I can see."
"I sold my over-blouse out of the window, Mrs. Staples," said the girl.
"Humph! What else?"
"Er--what else? Why--why, she said she might come back for the one I
am making."
"Humph!" ejaculated Mrs. Staples a second time. "I don't see as that
will fill my cellar with coal. Couldn't you sell her anything else out of
the shop?"
"She didn't say she wanted anything else," said Ida timidly.
"Oh! She didn't? You'll never make a sales-woman till you learn to sell
'em things they don't want but that the shop wants to sell. And I was
foolish enough to tell you that you could have all you could make out
of those blouses. Oh, well! I'm always being foolishly generous. Come!
What's that on the floor? Pick it up."
Mrs. Staples was very near-sighted, yet nothing seemed to escape her
observation. She pointed to the twist of white tissue paper on the floor
which had been twitched out of Betty Gordon's bag. Ida stooped as she
was commanded and got the paper. She was about to toss it into the
waste-basket behind the counter when she realized that there was some
hard object wrapped in the paper.

"What is it?" asked Mrs. Staples, in her quick, stern way, as she saw
Ida open the twist of paper.
"Why, I--Oh, Mrs. Staples! look what this is, will you?"
She held out in the palm of her hand a little, heart-shaped platinum
locket with a tiny but very