Bobby watched her as she scribbled a few lines. Miss Ida was uncommonly handsome, and had a lovely little straight nose and long eyelashes. So she was fond of Edgar after all!
“There, will this do?” she asked, holding it out.
“Dear Mr. Lovett,
“Your brother has just been here, and explained the situation. I have forgiven him, and I hope you will do the same. My sister will be very pleased if you will dine with us this evening, at eight o’clock.
“Yours sincerely,
“Ida Dacre.”
“Yes,” exclaimed Bobby, “that is all right. But, I say—what a cram about your sister!”
“Not at all,” coolly responded the lady, putting the note into an envelope, “not at all; she is always pleased to see your brother. Now here is the note. I hope,” with an ironical smile, “you have got all you want?”
“No, not yet—I want something else.”
As she stared at him interrogatively, he suddenly bent forward and kissed her audibly on the cheek, and before Miss Dacre had recovered from her astonishment at his audacity, Bobby was already in the gharry, waving wildly from the window as he rattled away.
The next time Mr. R. Lovett appeared in Munser, it was to enact the responsible rôle of best man—which part he played with the most commendable decorum.