“What men?”
“All those you were with on Halsey’s Island, and that met us in a body on the bridge.”
Reed threw back his head and shouted. “That’s one on you, Cronette, for I didn’t tell them a thing except that I had a date with a female person whom I didn’t know, and until I saw her I thought we’d better march in company. Well, you know how it came out, and if the boys didn’t jolly me well, you miss your guess. That was some blind game, Cronette, and I must acknowledge myself the loser. In all that horde of white-robed, goldenrod-decked females I never looked for you; even your hair didn’t show under that hat. By the way, now is my chance to get a sketch of you, the chance I missed last winter. May I make it? We’re old friends, you know. You’ll let me come over to see you, won’t you, and may I bring Tom along? He’s an all-right fellow, lots of talent and a great pal of mine.”
Ellen gave her consent. She had liked Tom’s looks, and recalled his little act of courtesy in the post-office. She told Reed about it.
“Just like Tom,” he responded. “He’s always looking out for the other fellow. At this very moment he is off helping his cousin to establish herself at Beatty’s. She has taken a cottage there for a month. Nice little woman she is; you’ll like her. Queer, Cronette, but it seems as if I had known you all my life, although this is really only the second time we have met.”
Ellen considered this for a moment before she said, “Probably it is because we both know Don Pedro so well, and then you know the violin is a common bond.”
“It’s quite as if I had adopted a member of your family, isn’t it? No end of comfort it is, too,—quite like a brother. You know the song, ‘Fiddle and I’?”
“I know it and love it. I am very glad you have the violin,” she said after a moment’s silence. “It was very generous of you to buy it.”
“Why, no, it wasn’t; I wanted it in the worst way. Would you like to hear it again?”
“Oh, please.”