“There, there! Dinna start to greet again. We’ll fix you up, if you’ll only tell Phil and me your trouble.”
“––And your name ain’t Sol Hanson?” she queried, with a trembling lip.
“No!––I am sorry to say it is not!”
From her grip, the girl picked out a bundle of envelopes, well filled, and done up in lavender-coloured ribbon.
“––And––and you never wrote them letters to me?”
Jim looked at the writing and shook his head.
“No,––I never did!”
“––And––and you don’t know my name’s Betty Jornsen?”
“I didn’t, but I do now, Betty,” gallantly answered Jim, while Phil was beside himself trying to stifle his amusement one moment, and endeavouring to keep back his feelings of sympathy for the girl, the next.
Several passers-by turned round and stared in open interest at the strange meeting.