He ran on in his usual key for some time, and then rose abruptly and walked toward her.
“Are we quite alone?” he whispered tragically.
“We are,” she replied, imitating his tone. “I hope you don’t mean to rob the house.”
“No,” he replied; “I didn’t come to steal; I’ve brought you a large beautiful present.”
This she assumed to be the preliminary to a joke of some kind.
“I left it behind that big rosebush in the yard and I’ll bring it in—nobody likely to come—no?”
“No; the nurse is out and I just now heard the maid climbing the back stairs to her room.”
A smothered “Oh!” greeted him as he reappeared bearing the suit-case she had entrusted to Copeland’s messenger the day before. He placed it quietly by the door, a little shame-facedly, in spite of his efforts to pass the matter off lightly. Nan flushed, staring at him defiantly.
“I saw this down at the works and I just thought I’d bring it up. Maybe,” he said reflectively, “it ain’t yours; but I thought I’d take a chance.”
“N. F.” neatly printed on the end of the bag advertised its ownership to any observant eye.