Cle-uk! Cle-uk! Cle-uk!”
(“Oh husband, oh husband, come dance with me;
Dance fast, and sing aloud,
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!”)
which song, the natives solemnly aver, is sung by those birds on all occasions of festivity, the birds sitting round in a ring with one bird, presumably the leader, standing in the centre.
Roy hummed it over several times before completing his task. A small, square package of cardboard containing a photograph seemed to cause him much hesitation, and he paused to lay it beside the letters, then again to take it up and lay it on the newspapers, but eventually he gave it a place of honor by itself, apart from the rest of the mail.
By the time the last letter was sorted the heap had grown to a respectable size. This fact Roy comprehended with manifest satisfaction.
The letters were addressed to him in several different hands, but the greater number were in the hand-writing of one person—evidently that of a lady. After these letters had been separated from the others he arranged them according to a mystic sign, or number, which was visible in the left hand corner of each envelope, then suddenly, without any apparent cause, he dropped them on the table to snatch up the cardboard package. Cutting the string that bound it together, he discovered a photograph of a young girl, or rather, young woman, for it was the picture of a person about twenty years of age.
The photograph was of the size known as a “cabinet.” The lady’s costume, what could be perceived of it, was shadowy and indistinct. The features were those of a young, healthy-looking maiden neither beautiful nor even pretty, but the expression of the girl’s face was pleasant, and the eyes which looked fearlessly out from it were large and good. The figure as far as could be judged from the photograph was short, and, to use a vulgar expression which aptly describes it, stocky.
Roy held the photo tenderly, gazing rapturously at the face pictured there. Presently he withdrew his eyes and glanced cautiously across at his companion.