Chapter X: Part 10

For a moment he stood regarding her. That image of her as she sat there with the flowers in her lap and her uplifted face and questioning eyes, more lovely than ever in their intense gravity in spite of their trace of tears, remained one of the permanent treasures of his memory.

He turned away and walked over to the writing table and sat down. It was a moment or two before he could think why he was there. Then he remembered and drew towards him several sheets of the hotel stationery and took up a pen. He realised that he was in a very poor frame of mind for literary composition, but he mastered his attention and wrote:

_Statement by John Merriam regarding His
Impersonation of Senator Norman_

He underlined those words and resisted an impulse to turn and look at Mollie June. He wanted to know whether she was looking at him or looking out at the window again. He wanted, too, merely to see her. But he would not look. With a heroic effort he brought his mind back to the paper before him. How to begin? Where to begin? It was a long story, he realised. He must make it as brief as possible. He could omit much. But he must introduce himself. The public did not know him from Adam. He seized at this straw.

"My name is John Merriam," he wrote. "I am the principal of the high school at Riceville, Illinois. On my mother's side I am related to----"

He stopped abruptly. It was the fragrance of roses that interrupted him. Mollie June had risen and come over beside him. His effort of concentration had been so great that he had not heard her. She carried the flowers pressed against the bosom of her dress. The action was probably mechanical; she was too much engrossed to think to put them down. She did not look at him but over his shoulder at his writing. She read it.

Apparently his opening statement caught her attention. She looked at him and smiled slightly, more with her mouth than her eyes, which were still grave.

"You wouldn't like to change your name, would you?" she said.

"Mollie June!" He was on his feet.

She backed away from him, pressing her flowers tight.

"Would you?" she demanded.

"It's not that," he said, not daring to advance towards her lest she should retreat farther.

"A woman always has to change her name when she marries. Why shouldn't a man do it for once?"

He started forward now and caught her arm and led her back to her chair and dropped on his knees again beside her.

"Dearest Mollie June," he said, "I'll change my name to yours so gladly, if you will let me. So as to have you sooner than I could the other way. But not unless you want me to!" he added fiercely. "For yourself!"

She looked at him, shyly now.

"I would rather have it the other way myself," she said, tears standing in her eyes at last, "and wait and change my name to yours. But I think we ought to do it this way for George."

"For George!"

"Yes, and Aunt Mary. She has been very good to me. George was good to me too in his way. And he was my husband, and he's dead. If we can save his name and save her--this way,--don't you think we ought to?"

Then of course he put his arms about her.

"I won't call you George, though!" she said presently, very emphatically.

"What will you call me, dearest?"

She smiled at him through her tears and with a gesture that ravished him lifted his hand and kissed it.

"Mr. John!" she whispered.

He would have kissed her again, but she hurried on.

"We'll pretend to people that it's a nickname left over from some game or play."

"It _is_ left over from a sort of--play," he answered, and then she was ready for another kiss.

THE END