PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
Grace. "Call me Tommy. The rest of it isn't worth tupence over here, you know."
It was Tommy whom Gordon gently but firmly detached from Leona Morrill on the porch after dinner.
"It won't do, Tommy," he said severely. "You're constituting yourself a combination in restraint of trade, old chap."
"Oh, but I say!" remonstrated Tommy as Gordon pushed him away.
"Objection overruled. If you don't run along I'll fine you twenty-nine million dollars, Tommy."
If Leona was surprised she failed to show it. She looked merely languidly amused. She affected languor, and it became her.
"It wears four shoes and only three stockings," said Gordon, taking the chair beside her. "Guess my riddle."
"The Tiger," replied Leona. "He's not for sale."
"Um; sorry. I saw him yesterday and I like his looks."
Miss Morrill remained silent.
"A—er—a girl was riding him, I believe. A friend of yours?"
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