Average Jones could, and did. He found Miss Graham’s piquant face under the stress of excitement, distinctly more alluring than before.
“Isn’t it strange?” she said, holding out a hand in welcome. “Why should any one advertise for my Peter Paul? He isn’t lost.”
“I am glad to hear that,” said the caller gravely.
“I’ve kept my promise, you see,” pursued the girl. “Can you do as well, and live up to your profession of aid?”
“Try me.”
“Very well, do you know what that advertisement means?”
“Perfectly.”
“Then you’re a very extraordinary person.”
“Not in the least. I wrote it.”
“Wrote it! You? Well—really! Why in the world did you write it?”