hought
it was very queer in me to say such things, but she smiled her
precious, patient little smile, and, though she didn't promise, she
evidently hasn't mentioned my sure-enough name, as no one here calls me
by any other than the one Billy gave me when I wasn't much bigger than
a baby. Just Kitty Canary will do for me.

CHAPTER II

The way I met Whythe (he's the one I'm almost perfectly certain I am in
love with) was this. When I got to the station in Twickenham Town
there was no one to meet me and take me to Rose Hill, which is Miss
Susanna Mason's home and right far out, because the train was three
hours late, and Uncle Henry, who drives the hack, and Mr. Briggs, who
runs the automobile, had gone home. There wasn't even anybody to take
my bag. I told Mother I had written Miss Susanna what train I would be
on, and because she was so busy and Father away she trusted me to do
things she had never trusted me to do before and didn't write herself,
which is why I wasn't met. I did write the letter saying I was coming,
but I forgot to mail it and found it in my bag when I got off the train
and was looking for my trunk check. It was nearly eleven o'clock and
nobody around but some train people who looked at me and said nothing.
And then a young man who had got off the same train came up and took
off his hat and asked if he could not do something for me, and I told
him I hoped he could and I certainly would be obliged if he would do it
as quick as possible, as it was getting later every minute and Mother
would be terribly worried if she knew I hadn't been met.

"But where are you going?" he asked, and his eyes, which are his
best-looking part, took me in from top to toe. When I told him I was a
boarder for Miss Susanna Mason and would like to get to her house he
said if I didn't mind a pretty good walk he would take me there with
pleasure, and we started off. It was a perfectly gorgeous night. The
stars were as thick as buttercups in spring, and the moon was
magnificent and the air full of all sorts of old-fashioned fragrances,
as if honeysuckle and mignonette and tea-roses and heliotrope were all
mixed together; and as there didn't seem any real need of grieving
because there was no one to meet me, I thought I might as well enjoy
myself. I did. I could not help the train being late, and I didn't
forget to mail my letter on purpose; and it was an accident, or
coincidence, that a nice man should be on the