stores, her sudden acquisition of elegant clothes could be explained.
“I don’t believe a store in town would offer her credit,” Nancy reasoned.
She had no intention of permitting the question to go unanswered. Hastily shifting gears, she started after the delivery wagon which had turned the corner and was traveling northward.
“I hope I haven’t lost him!” Nancy thought anxiously.
As she turned the corner she caught a glimpse of red far up the street and was certain that it was the Taylor delivery auto. Speeding up, she soon overtook the wagon, but contented herself with following close behind for several blocks.
It was not until both cars were well out of the slum district that the driver stopped. This was the opportunity Nancy had sought. She pulled up behind the delivery wagon and waited until the man had come back from the house where he had delivered a small package.
“Are you the delivery man from Taylor’s?” Nancy asked, by way of an opening.
“Sure. Can’t you read the sign?” the driver returned carelessly.
Nancy ignored the gibe and gave the man a smile which disarmed him at once.
“What kin I do for you?” he demanded more graciously.
“Have you delivered any packages to a person named Mary Mason?”
“That girl who lives down in Dockville? Sure! I just dropped off seven of ’em there.”
“I hope you got your money,” Nancy said slyly.