the drawer, putting the key on a ribbon around her neck.
She wasn't just sure why she did all this, but of late she had a suspicion that Clytie did not hesitate to go to her purse if she were in need of a trifle. Yet she had no proof of that, and she felt almost condemned for locking that drawer.
But locks meant nothing at all to Clytie. Nothing indeed was sacred when Clytie wanted something.
Clytie came to her as usual. She spoke nonchalantly, as if she were somehow conferring a favor on Astra.
"How about a little loan, Astra darling?" she said. "And could you make it a little larger than usual? I spent more than I meant to on that wedding gift, and I'm afraid I'm going to run short before I get back."
Astra was ready for her this time, however. She looked up pleasantly from the letter she was writing and gave Clytie a faint smile.
"Sorry, Clytie, but I can't possibly spare anything this time. I'm getting some new clothes, and I have a few plans I want to carry out while you are away. Besides, I'll be entirely on my own and have no one to borrow from, so I have to be economical. You haven't paid me back yet what you owe me, you know."
"Why, the ridiculous idea!" sneered Clytie. "Why should I pay you back those little trifles when you're living here in our house, just making a convenience of us? You haven't any expenses, you know you haven't. And anyway, you can charge new clothes. You know Mother always says you can. Besides, you don't need any new clothes while we are away. There'll be nobody here. What would you want new clothes for? And you never go to parties."
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Clytie, but I really can't let you have any money this time. Why don't you ask your father for some? I think that would be better, don't you? I can't always spare it. And Clytie, I always pay my board, you know. My father arranged for that, and this time I paid for the time you are to be away. So I haven't as much as usual. No, really, I mean it. I can't spare even a dollar."
Clytie, with her most unamiable expression, stared in affront at her cousin.
"Well, I think you are the most unaccommodating—"
And just then Clytie's mother called.
"Clytie, why don't you come? I'm waiting for you to measure this skirt. Hurry!"
Clytie turned away hurriedly and murmured in a fierce anger, "Well, I'll see that you're good and sorry for this!" Slamming the door, she hurried down the stairs.
It was a busy day, and Astra had little time to think about her money. There were so many little last things that Cousin Miriam wanted done. There were hems to be shortened, collars to be washed out, stockings to mend. The items seemed endless, and Astra took them all up to her room to do, out of the hurry and turmoil of downstairs. There was no chance for Clytie to annoy her, for Clytie was sent on several errands herself, and as usual, did not return soon.
Astra sat up very late finishing the mending for Miriam, and all day she had kept an eye on the third-story stairs which led to her room; she was sure Clytie had had no chance to get up there without being seen.
For Clytie had a way of mauling over Astra's ribbons and collars and gloves, and calmly appropriating anything that was to her liking, and it wasn't in the least unlikely that she would attempt such a raid at the last minute. So Astra lay down to sleep the night before they left with relief, knowing that nothing had been attempted that night at least, and there would be very little time for anything of the sort in the morning.
They were all at breakfast when Clytie entered with a frown on her brow.
"Mother, did you see those lovely new Pullman slippers I brought home yesterday? I thought I took them up to my room to put in my suitcase, but I can't find them anywhere. Astra, did you take them away? If you call that a joke, I think it's a poor time to pull it off, just as we're starting."
"Clytie, that's no way to speak to your cousin," said her father, albeit with an indulgence in his voice that did not trouble Clytie.
"Well, I can't help it. I want those slippers, and I intend to have them! You might at least come upstairs and help me find them, Astra!" She darted an angry look at Astra and dashed out of the room and upstairs.
Astra listened and heard her footsteps going up the second flight, then she rose to follow.
"No," said Miriam, "don't go, Astra. Eat your breakfast and then run down to the shoe shop for me. I left a pair of shoes there to have the heels straightened, and I need them."
"But Miriam, you haven't time to go after things. It's almost time we started," said her husband.
"Oh, I think we have. Hurry, Astra, you can make it, I'm sure. They are the only really comfortable shoes I have for walking."
"Well, why didn't you attend to them before?"
Astra swallowed the rest of her breakfast in haste and got herself down to the shoe shop in a hurry. When she came rushing back with the shoes, the car was already at the door, and her cousin Duke stood impatiently beside it, looking anxiously up toward the house.
Miriam came out presently, and after a sharp call from her father, Clytie at last emerged, a sullen look upon her face. Her farewell to Astra was vengeful. But there was no time to say more, for the car door shut with a snap and they were on their way, Miriam calling out last-minute directions to Astra—something about the house and some mending she might attend to while they were gone.
But Astra scarcely heard her. Her eyes were full of dismay as she watched the car disappear around the next corner and realized how alone she was in the world now.
Slowly she went into the house, picking up as she went, things that had been scattered, her thoughts almost bitter at the look Clytie had given her. How unfair Clytie was! Somehow she didn't believe those Pullman slippers had really been lost. She felt that Clytie had only been carrying out her promise that she would be sorry about not lending her money. Nevertheless, she went into the rooms that looked so much as if a hurricane had struck them, and quietly, carefully, put them in order, searching as she went. If she found the slippers, she would send them on after them. But no slippers came to light. If there really were any slippers, Astra thought to herself, they were probably stowed carefully in Clytie's suitcase, whence they would conveniently turn up when they were needed.
So at last, worn out with the last few hurried days in which she had so willingly sacrificed her own ways for the family good, she climbed to the third floor, thinking to sit down and read a little while and get rested before she did anything else. But when she opened her door, such chaos met her gaze as drove the thought of rest entirely from her mind.
All the bureau drawers were pulled out and set about on the floor, their contents scattered hither and yon. The bed was pulled to pieces. The pillow cases were peeled off and flung in a crumpled heap. Even the pillows had been ripped at one corner and a few feathers were drifting about as Astra walked around excitedly. Her frightened eyes searched the room, seeking the contents of her lower bureau drawer. And then suddenly she saw it. The little carved box that she loved so much because it had been one of her mother's precious treasures. Long ago when Astra's mother had first given it to her, it had been the place in which she had kept her little string of coral beads that her grandmother had given her. Her jewel chest, she had quaintly called it. But later, when she grew older, and had put her little hoard of childish treasures all together in a larger box, this little box had been carried about with her as just a treasure in itself. Always closed and locked, with the tiny key on the little chain in the secret hiding place under
