While Nancy was debating what to do next, she heard the rumble of a delivery auto. Glancing up she was astonished to see it come to a stop in front of the house Mary had entered.

“Taylor’s Store,” Nancy murmured, reading the red sign on the outside of the delivery wagon. “Why, that’s the largest department store in River Heights! I wonder why it’s stopping here?”

Evidently the driver was somewhat nonplussed at the appearance of the dwelling, for he studied the number a moment, glanced at a paper in his hand, and then scratched his head in a puzzled sort of way.

“I guess this must be the place, all right,” Nancy heard him mutter.

He shut off the motor and climbed out of the van. Going around to the back, he unlocked the rear doors and took out a number of packages. They were all sizes and shapes, but one was round like a hat box and another looked as though it might contain a dress or a coat. In all there were seven packages.

“My goodness, those things can’t all be for Mary,” Nancy told herself. “Surely, she can’t afford them.”

The driver of the van hurried up the walk to the house and knocked firmly on the door. There was a long wait and it was not until the man had called out impatiently: “Taylor’s Delivery!” that the door swung open on its rusty hinges. Nancy saw Mary Mason take the packages. She then closed the door and the driver went back to his wagon. He climbed in, started the engine, and went clattering on down the street.

“I’d like to see the inside of those packages,” Nancy told herself, “but I can guess what they contain. It beats me where that girl gets the money for all her finery. Of course she may buy on credit.”

She realized that such a possibility might put an entirely different face on the situation. If it were true that Mary had charge accounts at the various