Mr. ¬ÝTaylor Calls
“Thinking the matter over,” said Harry Cresswell to his father, “I’m inclined to advise drawing this Taylor out a little further.”
The Colonel puffed his cigar and one eye twinkled, the lid of the other being at the moment suggestively lowered.
“Was she pretty?” he asked; but his son ignored the remark, and the father continued:
“I had a telegram from Taylor this morning, after you left. He’ll be passing through Montgomery the first of next month, and proposes calling.”
“I’ll wire him to come,” said Harry, promptly.
At this juncture the door opened and a young lady entered. Helen Cresswell was twenty, small and pretty, with a slightly languid air. Outside herself there was