Lucile flew across the street.
“Cordie! Cordie! What in the world are you doing?” she fairly screamed.
Paying not the least attention to this, Cordie repeated over and over: “Dick, you old darling. Dear old Dick. You knew me, Dick, you did! You did!”
This lasted for a full moment. Then, appearing to come to herself, the girl dropped her hands and stepped back upon the sidewalk.
One glance at the stern young officer, and a quite different emotion swept over her. Her face turned crimson as she stammered:
“Oh, what have I done? I—I beg—beg your pardon.”
“It’s all right,” grinned the young man, coming to life with a broad smile. “Friend of yours, I take it?”
“Yes—Oh yes,—a very, very good friend.”
“My name’s Patrick O’Hara,” there was a comradely tone now in the young officer’s voice. “He’s a friend of mine too, and a mighty good one. Shake.” Solemnly drawing off his gauntlet, he swung half way out of his saddle to grasp the girl’s hand.
“Thanks. Thanks awfully. Is this—this where you always stay? I—I’d like to see Dick real often.”