THE STAR IN THE WINDOW
85
She would! She could! It was perfectly honest—perfectly fair. She approached the radiator with that new expression of defiance on her face, stooped abruptly, groped in the dust, and drew forth a smudgy yellow four.
Miss Bartholomew had charge of the yellow group.
"Hello," she said kindly to Reba, who was all a-flush now, and somewhat excited. "Do you belong here? What is your number? Four? Oh, yes. He's over there by the door. Sixteen?" she went on, turning to somebody else. "Sixteen? Saw him a second ago by that chair."
