ODD CRAFT

By W.W. Jacobs



BLUNDELL'S IMPROVEMENT

Venia Turnbull in a quiet, unobtrusive fashion was enjoying herself. The
cool living-room at Turnbull's farm was a delightful contrast to the hot
sunshine without, and the drowsy humming of bees floating in at the open
window was charged with hints of slumber to the middle-aged. From her
seat by the window she watched with amused interest the efforts of her
father--kept from his Sunday afternoon nap by the assiduous attentions of
her two admirers--to maintain his politeness.

"Father was so pleased to see you both come in," she said, softly; "it's
very dull for him here of an afternoon with only me."

[Illustration: "Father was so pleased to see you both come in," she said,
softly."]

"I can't imagine anybody being dull with only you," said Sergeant Dick
Daly, turning a bold brown eye upon her.

Mr. John Blundell scowled; this was the third time the sergeant had said
the thing that he would have liked to say if he had thought of it.

"I don't mind being dull," remarked Mr. Turnbull, casually.