"
"Ah, signal?" repeated the Colonel, approvingly.
"Yes! He'd say 'Kerrow,' and I'd say 'Kerree.' Suthing like a bird,
you know."
Indeed, as she lifted her voice in imitation of the call the Colonel
thought it certainly very sweet and birdlike. At least as _she_ gave
it. With his remembrance of the grim deacon he had doubts as to the
melodiousness of _his_ utterance. He gravely made her repeat it.
"And after that signal?" he added, suggestively.
"He'd pass on," said the girl.
The Colonel coughed slightly, and tapped his desk with his pen-holder.
"Were there any endearments--er--caresses--er--such as taking your
hand--er--clasping your waist?" he suggested, with a gallant yet
respectful sweep of his white hand and bowing of his head;--"er--
slight pressure of your fingers in the changes of a dance--I mean,"
he corrected himself, with an apologetic cough--"in the passing of
the plate?"
"No;--he was not what you'd call 'fond,'" returned the girl.
"Ah! Adoniram K. Hotchkiss was not 'fond' in the ordinary acceptance
of the word," said the Colonel, with professional gravity.
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