The sacred memories of brief fleeting moments with her told him “what of Elinor.”
“The barriers are down now. It is a glorious old world. I must hunt up Trench and then—”
He closed the dome window, looked a moment at the brave Kansas motto, radiant in the sunset light, and then, picking up his tools, he went downstairs.
“Hello, Trench I he called as he reached the rotunda floor. I must see you a minute.”
“Hello, you Angel-face! Case of necessity. Well, look a minute,” Trench drawled. “But that's the limit, and twice as long as I'd care to see you, although, I was hunting you. Funnybone wants to see you in there.”
Victor's eyes were glowing with a golden light as he entered Fenneben's study, and the Dean noted the wonderful change from the big, awkward fellow with a bulldog countenance to this self-poised gentleman whose fine face it was a joy to see.
“I have a message for you, Burleigh. No hurry about it I was told, but I am called away on important business and I must get it out of my mind. An odd-looking fellow called at my door on the night I came home and left a package for you. He said he had tried to find you and failed, that he was a stranger here, and that you would understand the message inside. He insisted on not giving this in any hurry, and as my coming home has brought me a mass of things to consider, I have not been prompt about it.”
Fenneben put a small package into Burleigh's hands.
“Examine it here, if you care to. You can fasten the door when you leave. Goodby!” and he was gone.
Victor sat down and opened the package. Inside was a quaint little silver pitcher, much ornamented, with the initial B embossed on the smooth side.