"Funnier now than it was then," I admitted.
"Why, of course, you are the Mr. Harrington who—But you have changed!"
"I am very glad to meet you again. No, I never found that purse. The judge still twits me, when he sees me, about changing my mind. He thinks—" Then she stopped in embarrassment, and it was some time before I found out what the judge did think.
"Have you been back to that place in Indiana?" she asked. And we had quite a chat. She talked to me like a young lady who was receiving a caller in her father's house. It took a long time to finish the few letters I had started to write. When she went, I got up and opened the door for her. I had to.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Harrington," she said, holding out her hand. "I am so glad to have met you again."
Old Peters, who was in the outer office, looked at us in considerable surprise. When Miss Gentles had gone he remarked in a gossiping way:—
"So you know the young woman?"
"I met her once years ago," I admitted. "How did she land here? She doesn't seem to have had much experience as a stenographer."