“Nothing,” said Janet.  “Only—­I’m in his office.”

“But what of it?  You’ve got a right to look at his house, haven’t you?”

“Why yes,—­a right,” Janet assented.  Knowing Eda’s ambitions for her were not those of a business career, she was in terror lest her friend should scent a romance, and for this reason she had never spoken of the symptoms Ditmar had betrayed.  She attempted to convey to Eda the doubtful taste of staring point-blank at the house of one’s employer, especially when he might be concealed behind a curtain.

“You see,” she added, “Miss Ottway’s recommended me for her place—­she’s going away.”

“Janet!” cried Eda.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well,” said Janet guiltily, “it’s only a trial.  I don’t know whether he’ll keep me or not.”

“Of course he’ll keep you,” said Eda, warmly.  “If that isn’t just like you, not saying a word about it.  Gee, if I’d had a raise like that I just couldn’t wait to tell you.  But then, I’m not smart like you.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Janet, out of humour with herself, and annoyed because she could not then appreciate Eda’s generosity.

“We’ve just got to celebrate!” declared Eda, who had the gift, which Janet lacked, of taking her joys vicariously; and her romantic and somewhat medieval proclivities would permit no such momentous occasion to pass without an appropriate festal symbol.  “We’ll have a spree on Saturday—­the circus is coming then.”

“It’ll be my spree,” insisted Janet, her heart warming.  “I’ve got the raise....”

On Saturday, accordingly, they met at Grady’s for lunch, Eda attired in her best blouse of pale blue, and when they emerged from the restaurant, despite the torrid heat, she beheld Faber Street as in holiday garb as they made their way to the cool recesses of Winterhalter’s to complete the feast.  That glorified drug-store with the five bays included in its manifold functions a department rivalling Delmonico’s, with electric fans and marble-topped tables and white-clad waiters who took one’s order and filled it at the soda fountain.  It mattered little to Eda that the young man awaiting their commands had pimples and long hair and grinned affectionately as he greeted them.

“Hello, girls!” he said.  “What strikes you to-day?”

“Me for a raspberry nut sundae,” announced Eda, and Janet, being unable to imagine any more delectable confection, assented.  The penetrating odour peculiar to drugstores, dominated by menthol and some unnamable but ancient remedy for catarrh, was powerless to interfere with their enjoyment.