P.S. Please recollect that I am only handsome according to the
good old proverb, and do not mistake me for an enterprising
hackman.
Mrs. Rosscott clapped her hands with delight when she finished the letter.
She was overjoyed at the success of her "opening play," and she wrote her
new correspondent two lines accepting his invitation, and went down on the
appointed train on the appointed day. He met her at the depot and they
divined one another at the first glance. It was impossible not to know so
pretty a woman--or so homely a man. For the ancestors of Mitchell had worn
kilts and red hair in centuries gone by, and although he proved the truth
of the red-hair proposition, no one would ever believe that anything of
his build could ever have been induced to have put itself into
kilts--knowingly. Furthermore, his voice had a crick in it, and went by
jerks, and his eyebrows sympathized with his voice, and the eyes below
them were little and gray and twinkling, and altogether he was the sort of
man who is termed--according to a certain style of phrasing--"above
suspicion." But she liked him, oh! immensely, and he liked her. And when
they were riding up in the carriage together she felt how thoroughly
trustworthy his gray eyes and good smile declared him to be, and had no
hesitation in telling him what she wanted to do, and in asking him what
she wanted to know.
Mitchell certainly had a talent for plotting, for when they reached the
house where the culprits were temporarily domiciled, Burnett had gone out
to give his mended ribs some exercise, and Jack was reading alone in the
room where they shared one another's liniments with friendly generosity.
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