questioning or playful gallantry. I am not sure it was not part of the
charm to have a rustic femme incomprise as a client.

Nothing could exceed the respect with which he greeted her as she
entered his office the next day. He even affected not to notice that she
had put on her best clothes, and he made no doubt appeared as when
she had first attracted the mature yet faithless attentions of Deacon
Hotchkiss at church. A white virginal muslin was belted around her slim
figure by a blue ribbon, and her Leghorn hat was drawn around her oval
cheek by a bow of the same color. She had a Southern girl's narrow feet,
encased in white stockings and kid slippers, which were crossed primly
before her as she sat in a chair, supporting her arm by her faithful
parasol planted firmly on the floor. A faint odor of southernwood
exhaled from her, and, oddly enough, stirred the Colonel with a far-off
recollection of a pine-shaded Sunday-school on a Georgia hillside, and
of his first love, aged ten, in a short starched frock. Possibly it was
the same recollection that revived something of the awkwardness he had
felt then.

He, however, smiled vaguely, and sitting down, coughed slightly, and
placed his finger-tips together. "I have had an--er--interview with
Mr. Hotchkiss, but--I--er--regret to say there seems to be no prospect
of--er--compromise."

He paused, and to his surprise her listless "company" face lit up with
an adorable smile. "Of course!--ketch him!" she said. "Was he mad when
you told him?" She put her knees comfortably together and leaned forward
for a reply.

For all that, wild horses could not have torn from the Colonel a word