dozen good pictures, and a page yarn for Easter Sunday. Stay as long as she wants you to."
"But who?"
Burlingame jerked his thumb toward a photograph on the wall.
"Oh! This will be the most scrumptious event in my life. I'm wild about her! But I haven't any clothes!"
Burlingame waved his hands. "I knew I'd hear that yodel. Eve didn't have anything to speak of, but she travelled a lot. Truth is, Kitty, you'd better dress in monotones. She might wake up to the fact that you're a mighty pretty young woman and suddenly become temperamental. She has a husband round the lot somewhere. Make him think his wife is a lucky woman. Here's all the dope—introduction, expenses, and tickets. Train leaves at two-fifty. Run along home and pack. Remember, I want a page yarn. No flapdoodle or mush; straight stuff. She doesn't need any advertising. If you go at it right you two will react upon each other as a tonic."
Kitty realized that this little junket was the very thing she needed—open spaces, long walks in which to think out her problem. She hurried home and spent the morning packing. When this heartrending business was over she summoned Tony Bernini.
"I am going out of town, Mr. Bernini. I may be gone a week."
