"I'm glad of it," declared Adele, "for I may as well confess, Mr.
Cameron, it had prejudiced me against you to think you would write
those letters to a stranger."
"Oh, I wouldn't, Mrs. Kenerley," said Kit, with exaggerated
earnestness. "Honest and truly, I wouldn't! I NEVER write letters to
strangers, unless I'm SURE the strangers are Patty Fairfield. And
I'm sure I shouldn't dare to write a letter to the young lady of the
photograph that came to me. She looked like an angel in the last
stages of nervous prostration."
"That's exactly what she did look like," said Adele, laughing. "I
must tell Hester that! She's a school-girl cousin of mine, Mr.
Cameron, and if she were here, she'd enjoy this two-story joke as
well as any of us."
Cameron stayed to dinner, as he said, to make his peace with Mr.
Kenerley when he came home, but really because he wanted to remain
with the pleasant house party.
Hal Ferris came home at dinner time, too, and was greatly diverted
by the whole story of the Belle Harcourt joke.
After dinner, it was warm enough to sit out on the veranda till time
for Kit to go to the train.
At last the chauffeur brought the little runabout to the door, and
Kit took leave of the merry group.
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