"Why, it's from you!"
"What if it is, you b-booby?" she cried sharply; then she changed her
tactics and looked up appealingly through the little square window.
"Oh, Jimmy, do help me out! That's a d-dear! I'm in no end of a
scrape. You'll do as I ask, now w-w-won't you?"
Jimmy surrendered on the spot.
"Now," said Annette, greatly relieved, "find out what time the d-down
train starts, and if it's on time."
"It ought to start at three," reported Jimmy after consulting the
telegraph operator. "It's an hour late on account of the snow.
Expecting somebody?"
She shook her head.
"Going to the city yourself?"
"Of course not. Whatever made you think that?" she cried with
unnecessary vehemence. Then, changing the subject abruptly, she added:
"G-guess who has come home?"
"Who?" cried Jimmy, with palpitating ears.
"Sandy Kilday. You never saw anybody look so g-grand. He's gotten to
be a regular swell, and he walks like this."
Annette held her umbrella horizontally, squared her shoulders, and
swung bravely across the room.
"Sandy Kilday?" gasped Jimmy, with a clutch at the letter in his
pocket. "Where's he at?"
"He's trying to get up from the d-depot. He has been an hour coming
two squares. Everybody has stopped him, from Mr.
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