She was piqued. Then she considered—was it a good one? Then she laughed.
“No,” she said, “it wasn’t up to much.”
“Ah!” he said easily, but with a steady strength of fondness for her in his tone. “Get it out then.”
It became a little more difficult.
“You know that white stocking,” she said earnestly. “I told you a lie. It wasn’t a sample. It was a valentine.”
A little frown came on his brow.
“Then what did you invent it as a sample for?” he said. But he knew this weakness of hers. The touch of anger in his voice frightened her.
“I was afraid you’d be cross,” she said pathetically.
“I’ll bet you were vastly afraid,” he said.
“I was, Teddy.”
There was a pause. He was resolving one or two things in his mind.
“And who sent it?” he asked.
“I can guess,” she said, “though there wasn’t a word with it—except——”
She ran to the sitting-room and returned with a slip of paper.
“Pearls may be fair, but thou art fairer
Wear these for me, and I’ll love the wearer.”
He read it twice, then a dull red flush came on his face.
“And who do you guess it is?” he asked, with a ringing of anger in his voice.
“I suspect it’s Sam Adams,” she said, with a little virtuous indignation.
