Her first impulse was to call Mary to answer it, but reflecting that probably the call would require her personal attention sooner or later, laid down her brush and went to answer it herself.

She could hardly credit the evidence of her own ears when a meek little voice called imploringly, "Oh, Joyce, could you come and get me?
I'm at the furrier's where you bought my Christmas present, and I haven't a cent in my pocket and don't know the way home." "What under the canopy!" gasped Joyce, startled out of her self-possession.

All morning she had been so sure that Mary was in the next room that it was positively uncanny to hear her voice coming from so far away.
"I've never known anything so spooky," she called.

"I can't be sure its you." "Well, I wish it wasn't," came the almost tearful reply.

"I'm awfully sorry to interfere with your work, and you needn't stop till you get through.