There she paused to look cautiously up and down the
thoroughfare, and then climbed the brass-bound stairs to Dr. Merkle's
door. The same bushy-headed mulatto girl admitted her, and after the
same interval of waiting in the red plush parlor she was once more
summoned to Dr. Merkle's office. The doctor received her without
surprise, and led her into the inner plush sanctuary.
"I thought you'd be back, but you've come a mite too soon: I told you
to be patient and not fret," she observed, after a pause of penetrating
scrutiny.
Charity drew the money from her breast. "I've come to get my blue
brooch," she said, flushing.
"Your brooch?" Dr. Merkle appeared not to remember. "My, yes--I get so
many things of that kind. Well, my dear, you'll have to wait while I get
it out of the safe. I don't leave valuables like that laying round like
the noospaper."
She disappeared for a moment, and returned with a bit of twisted-up
tissue paper from which she unwrapped the brooch.
Charity, as she looked at it, felt a stir of warmth at her heart.
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