lowing
the trail to--to--the front of the house, when I stumbled in--in here."

Long before he had finished, both women, by some simple feminine
intuition, were relieved and even prepossessed by his voice and manner.
They smiled graciously. The later-comer pointed to the empty chair. But
with his habit of pertinacious conscientiousness the stranger continued,
"It was regularly stupid, wasn't it?--and I ought to have known better.
I should have turned back and gone away when I found out what an ass I
was likely to be, but I was--afraid--you know, of alarming you by the
noise."

"Won't you sit down?" said the second lady, pleasantly.

"Oh, thanks! I've a letter here--I"--he transferred his stick and hat
to his left hand as he felt in his breast-pocket with his right. But the
action was so awkward that the stick dropped on the veranda. Both women
made a movement to restore it to its embarrassed owner, who, however,
quickly anticipated them. "Pray don't mind it," he continued, with
accelerated breath and heightened color. "Ah, here's the letter!" He
produced the note Bradley had returned to him. "It's mine, in
fact--that is, I brought it to Mr. Bradley. He said I was to give it
to--to--to--Mrs. Bradley." He paused, glancing embarrassedly from the
one to the other.

"I'm Mrs. Bradley," said the prettiest one, with a laugh. He handed her
the letter. It ran as follows:--

"DEAR BRADLEY--Put Mr. Mainwaring through as far as he wants to go, or
hang him up at The Lookout, just as he likes. The Bank's behind him, and
his hat's chalked all over the Road; but he don't care much about being
on velvet. That ain't his style--and you'll like him. He's somebody's
son in England. B."

Mrs. Bradley glanced simply at the first sentence. "Pray sit down, Mr.
Mainwaring," she said gently; "or, rather, let me first introduce my
cousin--Miss Macy."

"Thanks," said Mainwaring, with a bow to Miss Macy, "but
I--I--I--think," he added conscientiously, "you did not notice that your
husband had written something across the paper."

Mrs. Bradley smiled, and glanced at her husband's indorsement--"All
right. Wade in." "It's nothing but Jim's slang," she said, with a laugh
and a slightly heightened color. "He ought not to have sent you by that
short cut; it's a bother, and even dangerous for a stranger. If you had
come directly to US by the road, without making your first call at
the mill," she added, with a touch of coquetry, "you would have ha