"I knew you would be," laughed the jolly fellow. "I love to serve the ladies. And what shall I say in return?"
"Nothing, Harris," I responded. "I shall go by the first train; the widow here referred to, is a particular friend of mine."
Harris elevated his eyebrows.
"In dead earnest, aren't you? Tell me—I'll never, never give you away, is she pretty?"
"Pretty!" I retorted; "Harris, I've a mind to knock you down, for applying such a weak word to her. She's magnificent."
"Whew," he exclaimed, "It's a bad case, then. When shall we see you again in Trafton?"
"That depends upon the lady. I'll never leave the city while she desires me to stay."
After a little more banter of this sort, Harris returned to his duties, and I went up-stairs, well pleased with the manner in which he had interpreted my Chief's telegram, and wondering not a little what had brought the widow Ballou to the city.
Carnes and I had another long talk that night, while waiting the time for the arrival of the city express.