scriptive ones in her whole environment; and the philosophy was in her crutches!"
I did not propose to be convinced by such random talk as this, but somehow I began to feel as though I had made the discovery all on my own account.
"How are you going to make sure?" I asked.
"This is how I am going to make sure," and John sat down, and scribbled off these few lines:
"My Dear Miss Lamb:
"An advance copy of the poems of Leslie Smith has just arrived. Could we not take them to her this afternoon? You were intending to ride, were you not?
"Yours,
"John Brunt."
In half an hour the answer came:
"My Dear Mr. Brunt:
"I saw you had guessed our secret. The days are very short. We must start by two o'clock.
"Yours very sincerely,
"Lilian Leslie Lamb."
