You've saved my life. And I find I can't tell one stay from another!" McClintock laughed. All the events of the previous day rushed to his recollection; and though he had been unintentionally the cause of his mother's death, he reproached himself as severely as if he had been her actual murderer. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. For although I must confess it reads very much like an application or a testimonial or some such thing as that, I can assure you I am writing this in fear and trembling with a sinking heart. From other obscure hints dropped by the speakers, Mrs. “I was half hoping that I might be allowed to see you home.
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