"You appear anxious to misconstrue me. Let me explain,—please."
I bowed contritely. What else could I do?
"This afternoon, I have a piano,—boxed,—coming by the steamer Siwash. I would like if you could find me some assistance to get it ashore and placed in my house."
She said it so easily and it sounded so simple. But what a poser it was! Bring a full-fledged piano from a steamer three hundred yards out in the Bay, land it and place it in a house on the top of a rock. Heaven help the piano! I thought, as I gaped at her in bewilderment.
"Oh!—of course," she put in hurriedly, toying with the chain of her silver purse,—"if you are afraid to tackle it, why!—I'll—we shall do it ourselves."
She turned on her heel.
She looked so determined that I had not the least doubt but that she would have a go at it anyway.
"Not at all,—not at all. It will be a pleasure,—I am sure," I said quickly, as if I had been reared all my life on piano-moving.
She turned and smiled; a real, full-grown, able-bodied, entrancing, mischievous smile, and all of it full on the dirty, grimy individual,—me.
"It does not happen to be the kind of piano one can take to pieces, Miss Grant, is it?" I asked.