“Say, Phil!––I’m going up the length of the Station Hotel to see a man about a dog. I’ll be back shortly.” And he hurried off.
In fifteen minutes he returned, and he tried hard to settle down to the dictation of a few letters, but he was a dismal failure in his attempt, for he sighed and remarked to the stenographer: “Oh, pshaw! I’m on the 384 blink for work to-day. Cancel that! I’ll give you the remainder to-morrow.”
He went over to the window and gazed out into the street.
Phil picked up the letter he had received and went over to Jim with it, intending to let him read it. He clapped Jim on the back, making the latter jump.
“Wake up, Jim! What’s got you this time?”
Jim turned to him. “Gee, Phil!––positively and absolutely, the most charming piece of femininity I have ever seen is in Vernock to-day.”
“Good heavens!” ejaculated Phil. “Why didn’t you tell me that Eileen was down town?”
“Look here, old man!––I said, the most charming lady that I had ever seen, not that you had ever seen.”
“Oh!” apologised Phil, “I––I see.”
“No,––but straight goods! I was up at the station when the train came in, and she came off, with her mother and dad, I guess they were.”