"We went to see the Ostrich Farm yesterday. It was really very
interesting. C."




III


For quite a long time Stanton lay and considered the matter judicially
from every possible point of view. "It would have been rather
pleasant," he mused "to know who 'we' were." Almost childishly his
face cuddled into the pillow. "She might at least have told me the
name of the ostrich!" he smiled grimly.

Thus quite utterly denied any nourishing Cornelia-flavored food for
his thoughts, his hungry mind reverted very naturally to the
tantalizing, evasive, sweetly spicy fragrance of the 'Molly'
episode--before the really dreadful photograph of the unhappy
spinster-lady had burst upon his blinking vision.

Scowlingly he picked up the picture and stared and stared at it.
Certainly it was grim. But even from its grimness emanated the same
faint, mysterious odor of cinnamon roses that lurked in the
accompanying letter. "There's some dreadful mistake somewhere," he
insisted. Then suddenly he began to laugh, and reaching out once more
for pen and paper, inscribed his second letter and his first complaint
to the Serial-Letter Co.

"To the Serial-Letter Co.," he wrote sternly, with many ferocious