NOVEMBER JOE
"What is it, Miss Eileen?" asked Joe, as she paused.
"Uncle has been shot, Joe."
"Mr. Harrison?"
"Yes."
"I'm terrible sorry to hear that. He was a fine, just man."
"But that is not all. There is something even worse! . . . They say it was Mr. Galt who shot him."
"Mr. Galt!" exclaimed November in surprise. "It ain't possible!"
"I know! I know! Yet every one believes that he did it. I sent for you to prove to them that he is innocent. You will, won't you, Joe?"
"I'll sure do my best."
I saw her struggle for self-control; the way she got herself in hand was splendid.
"I must tell you how it happened," she said, "and we can be walking on at the same time, for I want you, Joe, to see the place before dark. . . . Yesterday afternoon there were five of us at the club. I was the only woman and the men settled to go out after the ducks in the evening, for though it had been wet all day,
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