Page:The Star in the Window.pdf/89

Rh could hardly keep the tears out of her eyes. She had always looked on before. Now, now she was in the game herself. It made her tingle all over. What if—oh, what if—by working diligently, trying hard—the very hardest she knew how—she might lure back her vanishing youth, just for a little while!

She expected no intimacies, and the night that Mamie Blake had abruptly burst in upon her with an unceremonious, "Say, hook me, will you? Gosh, but I'm late," it seemed to Reba as if her cup were running over with good things. She was not accustomed to such spontaneous expressions of friendliness from next-door neighbors.

Eagerly her fingers had fastened what few hooks and eyes corresponded on the back of Mamie's dress, over a mass of coarse and rather grimy lace underneath. Mamie worked in a downtown five-and-tencent store. She was not very refined. She used "darn it," and "damn" about as much as she did "gosh," but that did not cloud Reba's joy at being burst in upon by her.

"You're a lamb!" Mamie had exclaimed, when Reba had finished with the hooks. "Thanks. Say, you'll find some molasses-kisses in my top drawer. Help yourself." Then abruptly, "You couldn't lend me an umbrella, could you? I'm out of one, and look at it!" The rain was beating hard against the window-pane.

"Why, of course I can!" replied Reba ardently.

She went into her closet. Her two umbrellas—the cheap cotton one, and the silk, with the carved ivory handle, were hanging side by side on two hooks. She took down the one with the carved ivory handle, and