Thursday morning he came in late. He dropped something on the table. On inspection I found it to be a woman's handkerchief purse.
"Where the deuce did you get that?" I asked, mighty curious.
"By George! but I've been enjoying the most enchanting adventure; such as you read out of a book. I'm inclined to believe that I shall enjoy my studies in old Barscheit."
"But where did you get this?" If there was a girl around, I wanted to know all about it.
"She dropped it."
"She dropped it!" I repeated. "What she? Why, you old tow-head, have you been flirting at this hour of the morning?"
"Handsome as a picture!"
"Ha! the ideal at last,"—ironically. "Blonde, of course."
"Dark as a Spaniard, and rides like Diana." His enthusiasm was not to be lightly passed over.
"Never heard of Diana riding," said I; "always saw her pictured as going afoot."