"I'll take your bet!" cried May with animation. "I won't answer a word."
Jack gave a wicked chuckle, and flicked his horses into a brisk run. In a moment or two he drew them down to an easy trot, and turned to May with a matter-of-fact air.
"Of course now we have been engaged a week," he said, "I am at liberty to read that letter you wrote to Christopher Calumus?"
"Read it!" she cried. "Oh, I had forgotten that you kept it! Oh, you mustn't read it! I wouldn't have you read it for the world."
"Would you have me read it for a pair of gloves?" inquired Jack wickedly. "You've lost your bet."
"I don't care anything about my bet," she retorted, with an earnestness so great as to suggest that tears were not so far behind. "I want that letter."
"I'm sorry you can't have it," was his reply; "but the truth is, I haven't got it."
"Haven't got it? What have you done with it?"
"Delivered it to the one it was addressed to,—Christopher Calumus."
"Delivered it? Do you mean you gave it to Mr. Fairfield?"