"Yes, Uncle Adam. I met him last winter, at Mrs. Dally's reception. He is a traveling salesman for this house," she pointed to the notice on the envelope. "He wants me to go to the theatre with him, and I expect to go. Mrs. Dally says he is a very nice young man. We—we have been out a number of times." And the girl blushed again.
"I know some parties connected with that firm. What's the young man's name, Letty?"
"Mr. Tom Ostrello."
"Indeed! And he has invited you to go to the theatre with him?"
"Yes. Then you know him, Uncle Adam? I didn't dream of that. Don't you think he is—is rather nice?"
"Evidently you think so." For some reason the detective could scarcely steady his voice. He was a bachelor, with only some distant relatives, and he thought a good deal of his protegée and her welfare.
"I—I do, Uncle Adam. He treats me so nicely. I—I—don't you approve of him?" she went on hastily, searching his face for the smile that usually rested there when he spoke to her.
"Why, I—er—I don't know him so well as all that, Letty." For the first time in his life he was visibly confused. "You say he has called on you a number of times?"
"Yes, and he has taken me out, let me see, I guess it must be a dozen times all told. I—I wanted to speak of this before, but I—well, I couldn't bring it around. I hope you'll approve, Uncle Adam."
"Approve? Of your going out with him?"