The Golden Circle

g, bare salesroom. Before them was a long, high platform. Back of the platform, piled to the ceiling, was an odd assortment of box

taken save two. From these, hats mysteriously disappeared as Merry app

Jeanne whispered in surprise. “D

s are no good. They bid too high. After that the

t y

drew herself up proudly. “I’m a

er left. “This is Petite Jeanne. She’s going t

he union?” The ruddy-

erry laug

ff, won’t we?” He turne

etite Jeanne. He was young and, in a way, handsome. His features were reg

it.” To this little French girl the world was a stage indeed, and all men actors. Sh

rk of art. There they were, Jeanne and Merry, like two beings from another world; two glowing spots of color, one orange, one bright purple, against a dull tide of brown, gray and black. The scene about them was grim and so

nd the girls, waiting patiently for the show, which was a weekly auction, to begin. A

ing her glance to sweep the growing th

anne voiced he

ill tell them they are gambling. Perhaps you will hear him say it. ‘It’s not w

ges. What’s in the packages? They are wrapped tight. Not one of them can know. T

do

e are fine new goods, silk stockings,

money for a worthless bundle of r

sigh, “it’s the call of the g

Jeanne, “do yo

ood ones, and not badly broken. I shall buy them. I can see two ne

shall see how they will bid. For in their dreams they see in those bags, lo

old letters, a book or two, and some worthless trinkets. D

mble, for they have little to lose and always dream of g

answered. “And shall we no

ezed her hand. “One small pa

nch girl whispered eagerly, “For thi