“You are always right, Dick, I am sure!” responded Miss Letty sweetly.
The Major took up his broad Panama hat, and looked into its crown thoughtfully.
“You’ll be ready to sail the first week in October, Letty?”
“Quite!”
“Good night!”
“Good night, Dick!”
Whereupon the Major put his Panama firmly on his head and walked slowly and meditatively down the garden and out of it—and Miss Letty put by the chairs on the verandah, and shut all the drawing-room windows. As she paused for a moment by her worktable to put one or two trifles by, her eyes rested for a moment on the pair of little worn shoes on the bracket above, and the pensive aspect of the toy cow “Dunny” that stood close by them, and that seemed to be steadfastly regarding their shabby toes with a contemplative sadness too deep for even a movable head to wag over.
“Poor Boy!” mused Miss Letty—“I wonder where he is—and what he is like—now!”
CHAPTER IX
The summer flew by,—on wings of romance for Violet Morrison, but somewhat burdened with anxiety for Major Desmond and Miss Leslie. Max Nugent, millionaire and man of the world, was most charming in his manner to both the elderly people, and most tender and deferential in his devotion to the young girl in their charge,—but Major Desmond was not altogether satisfied about him. He wore a glass in his eye for one thing. People laughed at the Major when he made objection to such a trifle,—even Miss Letty laughed. But Desmond was obstinate.