"Hold on there!" said Koschinsky. "I expect a very fine bird soon. You'd
better wait. It was here only last night; and the bird asked whether you
had been in." Arthur started.
"For me? Miss Silverman?"
"I said a bird," was the dogged reply. And then Yetta walked up to
Arthur and asked:--
"Where have you been? Why haven't you called?" He blushed.
"I was ashamed."
"Because you were so, so--frightened, that night?"
"Yes."
"But nothing came of the affair. The police could get no evidence. We
had no flags--"
"That scarlet one I saw you with--what of it?" She smiled.
"Did you look in your pockets when you got home? I stuffed the flag in
one of them while we were downstairs." He burst into genteel laughter.
"No, I threw off my clothes in such disgust that night that I vowed I
would never get into them again. I gave the suit to my valet."
"Your valet," she gravely returned; "he may become _one of us_."
"Fancy, when I reached the house--I went up in a hansom, for I was
bareheaded--my mother was giving the biggest kind of a ball.
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