"My own?" she repeated. "Why do you ask?" Innocence was stamped upon her. For nothing in the world would she have glanced down upon the collar.
"Oh, nothing—nice little rat, that's all. And I'm game. Stuff him in, if you want. I'll deliver him to your vet."
"You will? Really? Why, how kind you are! I do appreciate it. You mean it?"
"Of course I do. Stuff him in. Delighted to be of any little service. Come on, Towzer. Make it clear to your little pet, pray, before starting that I'm no abductor. Good-by—and say," he added, as the car began to purr, "Say, please remember you aren't the only clever little guy in the world, Miss Who-ever-you-are!"
"Why, what do you mean?" She looked abused.
"That's all right. Good-by." And off he sped down the road.
Miss "Who-ever-you-are" walked the three miles home slowly, smiling almost all the way. When she arrived, there was a huge box of flowers waiting on the hall-table directed to:
- "Miss Ruth Chenery Vars
- The Homestead, Hilton, Mass.
- License No. 668."
- The Homestead, Hilton, Mass.
Inside were two dozen American Beauty roses. Tied to the stem of one was an envelope, and inside the
