“Come on,” said Ellen brusquely, “we’d better be getting home. You know
you’ve got the dishes to do, Marion.”
She drew me along. I couldn’t resist looking back, and there was that
fascinating Colonel, standing stock-still in the street, still pulling
at his mustache, and staring after me. He smiled all over, when I
turned, and blew me an odd little kiss, like a kind of salute, only from
his lips.
That night, when Ellen and I were getting ready for bed, I said:
“Isn’t the Colonel thrillingly handsome though?”
“Ugh! I should say not,” said Ellen. “Besides he’s a married man, and a
flirt.”
“Well, I guess he doesn’t love his old wife,” said I.
“If she is old,” said Ellen, “so is he--maybe older. Disgusting.”
All next day I waited for that box of roses, and late in the afternoon,
sure enough, it came, and with it a note:
“DEAR MISS MARION:
Will you and your charming sister take a little drive with me and a
friend this evening? If so, meet us at eight o’clock, corner of St.
James and St. Denis streets. My friend has seen your sister in
Judge Laflamme’s office” (Ellen worked there) “and he is very
anxious to know her. As for me, I am thinking only of when I shall
see my lovely rose again. I am counting the hours!
Devotedly,