he suspects--but, no, how could he?"

As she hung her wrap in the corner of her room, her eye fell upon the papier-mache lunch box. Her hand half reached for it, then she drew it back and flung herself into a chair. "Tomorrow," she murmured. "I'm so tired." Fifteen minutes later she was in her bed fast asleep, dreaming of her pal, and in that dream she saw her rattling on and on and on forever through the night. CHAPTER VII THE VANISHING PORTLAND CHART

Florence was not rattling on and on through the night as Lucile dreamed. Some two miles from the heart of the city, her journey on the elevated came to a halt. The child left the car and went bounding down the steps. Not many moments passed before Florence realized that her destination was a famous library, the Newburg. Before she knew it, the massive structure of gray sandstone loomed up before her. 

And before she could realize what was happening, the child had darted through the door and lost herself in the labyrinth of halls, stairways, and passageways which led to hundreds of rooms where books were stacked or where huge oak tables invited one to pause and read. "She's gone!" Florence gasped. "Now how shall I find her?" Walking with all the speed that proper conduct in such a spacious and dignified hostelry of books would allow, she passed from room to room, from floor to floor, until, footsore and weary, without the least notion of the kind of room she was in or whether she was welcome or not, she at last threw herself into a chair to rest. "She's escaped me!" she sighed. "And I promised to keep in touch with her. What a mess! But the child's a witch. Who could be expected to keep up with her?"

"Are you interested in the exhibit?" It was the well-modulated tone of a trained librarian that interrupted her train of thought. The question startled her. "The--er--" she stammered. "Why, yes, very much." What the exhibit might be she had not the remotest notion. "Ah, yes," the lady sighed. "Portland charts are indeed interesting. Perhaps you should like to have me explain some of them to you?"

"Portland charts." That did sound interesting. It suggested travel. If there was any one thing Florence was interested in, it was travel. "Why, yes," she said eagerly, "I would." "The most ancient ones," said the librarian, indicating a glass case, "are here. Here you see one that was made in 1440, some time before Columbus sailed for America. These maps were made for mariners. Certain men took it up as a life work, the making of Portland charts. It is really very wonderful when 

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