"Yes," replied Dorothy, also smiling. Surely she and Tavia had been
mistaken in their unkind opinion of this little body.
"I go into the city almost daily," continued the woman, "and now, in the
busy time, I try to make this early train. I do so dislike to get in the
dense crowd."
"It is unpleasant," said Dorothy a little guiltily, for at each word the
woman spoke she felt more positive this gentle person could never be what
they had supposed her--a shoplifter.
"I wanted to speak to your friend the other day," went on the stranger,
"but I couldn't seem to get an opportunity. I suppose I might--send her a
message--by you?"
"Why, yes--certainly," Dorothy stammered, really surprised this time.
"I saw when she dropped the envelope in the train that her name was
Travers, and I thought if she would call on me I might be able to help her
in a little business matter. It is of rather a delicate nature," the
woman added, smiling, "so you will excuse me for being so mysterious."
"Why, of course," was all that Dorothy could think to answer. "I am sure
Tavia--Miss Travers--would be glad--"
"Here is my card," interrupted the woman, evidently noting Dorothy's
embarrassment. Dorothy accepted the piece of cardboard, and glancing at it
read:
MISS ESTELLE BROOKS
_Expert Penman_
_Envelopes addressed, etc.
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