“They don’t match,” I objected.  “They—­they wouldn’t look natural, Miss Cobb.”

“They don’t look natural on you, either.  Do you suppose anybody believes that the Lord sent you hair in seventeen rows of pipes, so that, red as it is, it looks like an instantaneous water-heater?”

“I’m not lending them,” I said firmly.  It would have been like lending an engagement ring, to my mind.  Miss Cobb was not offended.  She went at once to what had brought her, and bent over the counter.

“Where’s the Summers woman?” she asked.

“In the gym.  She’s made herself a new gym suit out of her polka dotted silk, and she looks lovely.”

“Humph!” retorted Miss Cobb.  “Minnie, you love Miss Jennings almost like a daughter, don’t you?”

“Like a sister, Miss Cobb,” I said.  “I’m not feeble yet.”

“Well, you wouldn’t want to see her deceived.”

“I wouldn’t have it,” I answered.

“Then what do you call this?” She put a small package on the counter, and stared at me over it.  “There’s treachery here, black treachery.”  She pointed one long thin forefinger at the bundle.

“What is it?  A bomb?” I asked, stepping back.  More than once it had occurred to me that having royalty around sometimes meant dynamite.  Miss Cobb showed her teeth.

“Yes, a bomb,” she said.  “Minnie, since that creature took my letters and my er—­protectors, I have suspected her.  Now listen.  Yesterday I went over the letters and I missed one that beautiful one in verse, beginning, ‘Oh, creature of the slender form and face!’ Minnie, it had disappeared—­melted away.”

“I’m not surprised,” I said.

“And so, last night, when the Summers woman was out, goodness knows where, Blanche Moody and I went through her room.  We did not find my precious missive from Mr. Jones, but we did find these, Minnie, tied around with a pink silk stocking.”

“Heavens!” I said, mockingly.  “Not a pink silk!”

“Pink,” she repeated solemnly.  “Minnie, I have felt it all along.  Mr. Oskar von Inwald is the prince himself.”

“No!”

“Yes.  And more than that, he is making desperate love to Miss Summers.  Three of those letters were written in one day!  Why, even Mr. Jones—­”

“The wretch!” I cried.  I was suddenly savage.  I wanted to take Mr. von Inwald by the throat and choke him until his lying tongue was black, to put the letters where Miss Patty could never see them.  I wanted—­I had to stop to sell Senator Biggs some chewing-gum, and when he had gone, Miss Cobb was reaching out for the bundle.  I snatched it from her.

“Give me those letters instantly,” she cried shrilly.  But I marched from behind the counter and over to the fireplace.

“Never,” I said, and put the package on the log.  When they were safely blazing, I turned and looked at Miss Cobb.

“I’d put my hand right beside those letters to save Miss Patty a heartache,” I said, “and you know it.”