(Signed) Virginia S. Pomeroy.
'Here,' she said, folding it up and giving it to the young man, 'you should keep this among the proudest archives of your house.'
Sir Archibald put it into his pocket with a funny little smile. 'It shall have the greatest care always,' he assured her. 'And now, Miss Pomeroy, won't you and Miss Evesham come and have a game of billiards with me? I must relax my mind after all this effort.'
I knew that I should not consent to this proposition; Virginia knew that she should not; we both hesitated for a moment, and then Virginia, with a glance at the storm outside, made a compromise in favour of decorum.
'Well, there doesn't seem to be much else to do this wet afternoon,' she said. 'I don't care if I do come and see how well you play, Sir Archibald, and perhaps Miss Evesham will come and applaud also.'
I didn't see much difference between playing ourselves and seeing him play, but perhaps there was a little.
'I'll fetch my banjo,' proposed Virginia, 'and I can sing while you have your game.'
So to the billiard-room we went, and Virginia perched herself in a window niche. From this point of vantage she watched Sir Archibald's strokes, while she strummed away on the instrument, and sang delicious little songs in her clear, bird-like voice. I watched them both closely. Sir Archibald was not attending to his play; I saw that he was thinking far more about her.
'Won't you even chalk my cue for me?' he asked her, holding out the chalk.