ing up and down the room, cast himself into an
armchair and stared despairingly at his amanuensis. But she reassured
him by saying quietly that it was always difficult to dictate when one
was not used to it, and that the letter sounded quite right.

"Well, if you think so, we'll try another paragraph--that's certainly
enough about me. Let me see--" He ran his left hand through his hair.

Footsteps sounded upon the porch. Arthur Chester opened the door.

"Oh, excuse me, Red. It's nothing. I was going for a tramp, and I
thought--"

"I'm with you." Burns sprang to his feet looking immensely relieved.
"Thank you, Miss Mathewson, we'll finish another time. Or perhaps I can
scrawl a finish with my left hand. I'll take the letter. I'll look in at
Bob and get my hat in a jiffy, Ches."

He seized the letter, ran into the inner office, looked in at the
dimly-lighted room where the boy was sleeping, took up a soft hat and,
out of sight of Miss Mathewson, crammed the typewritten sheet into his
pocket in a crumpled condition. Pulling the soft hat well down over his
eyes he followed Chester out into the fresh November night, drawing a
long breath of satisfaction as the chill wind struck him.

"You were just in time to save me from an awful scrape I'd got myself
into," he remarked as they tramped away.

"I thought you looked hot and unhappy. Were you proposing to Miss
Mathewson by letter? It's always best to say those things right out:
letters are liable to misinterpretation," jeered Chester.

"You're right there. I was riding for a fall fast enough when you reined
up alongside. But what's a fellow to do when he can't write himself,
except in flytracks?"

"I presume the lady would prefer the fly-track to a typewritten document
executed by another woman."

"How do you know the thing was to a lady?" Burns demanded.

"That's easy. No man looks as upset as you did over a communication to
another man. What do you write to her for, anyhow, when she's as near as
Washington?"

"What?"

"Doesn't she keep you informed? Winifred says Martha says Ellen came
back up to Washington yesterday for the wedding of a friend--hastily
arranged--to an army officer suddenly ordered somewhere--old friend of
Ellen's--former bridesmaid of hers, I believe. She--"

Burns had stopped short in the middle of the hubbly, half-frozen street
they were crossing. "How long does she stay in Washington?"

"I don't know. Ask Win. Probably not long, since s