He made and destroyed no less than half a dozen openings
before at last he was fairly off. Meanwhile, Master Frank, busy
over some alterations in Bucky's gypsy suit, took pleasure in
deriding with that sweet voice the harassed correspondent.
"It might be a love letter from the pains you take with it. Would
you like me to come and help you with it?" the sewer railed
merrily.
"I ain't used to letter writing much," apologized the scribe,
wiping his bedewed brow, which had suddenly gone a shade more
flushed.
"Apparently not. I expect, from the time you give it, the result
will be a literary classic."
"Don't you disturb me, Curly, or I'll never get done," implored
the tortured ranger.
"You're doing well. You've only been an hour and a half on six
lines," the tormentor mocked.
Womanlike, she was quite at her ease, since he was very far
indeed from being at his. Yet she had a problem of her own she
was trying to decide.
Had he discovered, after all, that she was not a boy, and had his
reasons--the ones he was trying to tell in that disturbing
letter--anything to do with that discovery? Such a theory
accounted for several things she had noticed in him of late.
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