CHAPTER III.
Mrs. Major Gets The Key.
George carried a basket. He laid it upon the floor. Then he turned and kissed his Mary. He put his arms about her; held her to him for a moment in a tremendous hug; pressed his lips to hers; held her away, drinking love from her pretty eyes; again kissed her and again hugged.
She gasped: “I shall crack in half in a minute if you will be so ridiculous.”
He laughed; let her free. He led to the tottering bench that stood across the room, sat her there, and taking her little gloved hand patted it between his.
“Fine, Mary,” he said, “to see you again! Fine! It seems months!”
“Years,” Mary whispered, giving one of the patting hands a little squeeze. “Years. And you never sent me a line. I've not had a word with you since you came up on the lawn that day and said you had passed your exam. You simply bolted off, you know.”
“You got my letter, though, this morning?” George said. He dropped her hand; fumbled in his pocket for his pipe. He was becoming a little nervous at the matter before him.
Mary told him: “Well, that was nothing. It was such a frantic letter! What is all the mystery about?”