It was altogether a triumph for Neil Lowell, and the tears that moistened his pillow that night were girlish, but they were not tears of sadness entirely.
[CHAPTER XIII.]
"Lowell!"
"Yes, sir!"
"What are you doing?"
"Answering that batch of letters that came by the morning delivery."
"Well, stop! I'm tired of it. It seems to me that you do nothing eternally but work from morning until night!"
The sweet face was lifted, all dimpled with smiles.
"Was not that what you engaged me for?"