Well, thanks, Kitty Tynan.

What a girl you are--to be so kind to a fellow like--me!" "Kitty Tynan, what a girl you are!"-- these were the very words she had used about herself a little while before.

The song--why did it make Mr.Kerry take on such a queer look all at once when he heard it?
Kitty watched him striding down the street into the town.
Now a voice--a rich, quizzical, kindly voice-called out to her: "Come, come, Miss Tynan, I want to be helped on with my coat," it said.
Inside the house a fat, awkward man was struggling, or pretending to struggle, into his coat.
"Roll into it, Mr.Rolypoly," she answered cheerily as she entered.
"Of course I'm not the star boarder--nothing for me!" he said in affected protest.
"A little more to starboard and you'll get it on," she retorted with a glint of her late father's raillery, and she gave the coat a twitch which put it right on the ample shoulders.
"Bully! bully!" he cried.

"I'll give you the tip for the Askatoon cup." "I'm a Christian.

I hate horse-racers and gamblers," she returned mockingly.
"I'll turn Christian--I want to be loved," he bleated from the doorway.
"Roll on, proud porpoise!" she rejoined, which shows that her conversation was not quite aristocratic at all times.
"Golly, but she's a gold dollar in a gold bank," remarked Jesse Bulrush warmly as he lurched into the street.
The girl stood still in the middle of the room looking dreamily down the way the two men had gone.
The quiet of the late summer day surrounded her.