the matter? I puzzled my brains enough over it, I assure you."
"And that red-headed impostor has been chuckling in his sleeve ever since, I suppose," said Cyn, indignantly; then seizing Mr. Stanwood by the arms, she cried, in a transport of delight, "and it really is true? you are our 'C?'"
"What! am I not yet believed?" he questioned, laughing; "what more shall I do to convince you of my identity? you accepted our red-headed friend readily enough!"
"Oh! I believe you!" cried Nattie, eagerly; then stopped, and colored, abashed at her own so plainly shown delight.
But Mr. Stanwood looked at her with a gratified expression in his brown eyes.
"And you will not snub me any more, will you?" he said, pleadingly; "because I never use bear's grease or musk, and my hair isn't red a bit!"
"I will try and make amends," Nattie answered, shyly; adding, "I ought to have known there was some mistake. I never could reconcile that creature and—and 'C'!"
"Then I may flatter myself that I am an improvement?" asked Mr. Stanwood, merrily; at which Nattie murmured something about fishing for compliments, and Cyn replied gayly,
