“She is indeed,” was her husband’s fond answer as he stopped in his excited pacing to and fro, to kiss his wife’s soft, dimpled shoulder.
“It is a shame that our dear sister should have to come in contact with such a creature, and to think that Marion was trying to do her a kindness.”
Marion had removed her hat and unbound her beautiful hair, and now sat sipping a cup of chocolate that Dollie had hurriedly made for her.
“What puzzles me most is that man,” she said, thoughtfully. “Oh, what a terrible face he had—it was hideously scarred and disfigured.”
“He was probably drunk,” was her brother-in-law’s answer. “And no doubt he mistook you for some one else. I’ll tell the officer on the beat to keep a look-out for him in future.”
“Well, it is very evident that there was no officer on the beat to-night,” said Marion, laughing, “for I screamed as loudly as I possibly could, and I only succeeded in awakening the echoes.”
“Oh, the cop was probably in the corner saloon,” said Ralph Moore, disgustedly; “still, it’s lucky you screamed and scared the fellow. No one knows what he might have done if you hadn’t, sister.”
“Oh, I have some news for you,” said Dollie, suddenly. “I got a letter from our old friend, Bert Jackson, to-day. He is coming home to be ready to sail for Europe with his foster-father next week, and in the fall he is going to college.”
“That is good news,” said Marion, with a happy smile. “I wondered why we hadn’t heard from Bert since your wedding, but I suppose he has been having such a good time with his new parents in Canada that he did not have time to write to his old friends.”