A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. “Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her. The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. Anybody in pain had only to call to him. A brief description will suffice for them. She turned and looked at the red LED of the alarm clock that read 3:55. " "Not quite," rejoined the thief-taker, significantly. ’ ‘That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. Secretly she was gratified to be assigned to the rôle of an old traveller.
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