Mr. Hamlin was first to begin. "I didn't think
YOU'D be such a fool as to try on this kind of thing, Fred," he said,
half seriously.
"Yes, but it was to keep you from being a much bigger one that I hunted
you up," said the editor, mischievously. "Read that. I got it an hour
after you left." And he placed a little triumphantly in Jack's hand the
letter he had received from White Violet.
Mr. Hamlin read it with an unmoved face, and then laid his two hands
on the editor's shoulders. "Yes, my young friend, and you sat down and
wrote her a pretty letter and sent her twenty dollars--which, permit me
to say, was d----d poor pay! But that isn't your fault, I reckon: it's
the meanness of your proprietors."
"But it isn't the question, either, just now, Jack, however you have
been able to answer it. Do you mean to say seriously that you want to
know anything more of a woman who could write such a letter?"
"I don't know," said Jack, cheerfully. "She might be a devilish sight
funnier than if she hadn't written it--which is the fact.
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