“I wouldn’t do anything. I’d know the company that offered it was a fake, and had gone back on its own promise.”
“Patty, you’re incorrigible!” said Ken. “I give you up. You’re the most self-assured, self-reliant, cocksure young person I ever saw.”
“Thank you, sir, for them kind words! Oh! sit still, my heart! Do I hear that familiar whistle at last?”
“You do!” shouted Kenneth, making a spring for the front door.
They all followed, but Kenneth first reached it, and fairly grabbed the letters from the astonished letter-carrier.
Returning to the library with his booty, he ran them over slowly and tantalisingly.
“One for Mrs. Fairfield,” he said. “From a fashionable tailor. Do you suppose it’s a dun? Or, perhaps, merely an announcement of new spring furbelows. Next, one for Mr. Fairfield. Unmistakably a circular! No good! Ha! another for Mrs. Fairfield. Now, this——”
“Oh, Ken, stop!” begged Patty. “Have pity on me! Is there one for me?”
“Yes, yes, child. I didn’t know you wanted it. Yes, here’s one for you. It is postmarked ‘Vernondale.’ Take it, dear one!”
“Nonsense, Ken. Not that one! But isn’t there one from the Rhodes and Geer Motor Company?”