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"I can't imagine it Frank Blaisdell spending his mornings playing golf!" "You forget," smiled Miss Maggie. "Frank Blaisdell is a retired business man. He has begun to take some pleasure in life now." "Humph!" muttered Mr. Smith, as he turned to go into his own room. Mr. Smith called on the Frank Blaisdells that evening. Mr.
Smith collapsed suddenly behind his handkerchief, with one of the choking coughs to which he appeared to be somewhat addicted. "Ain't you getting a little familiar with 'dear Cousin Stanley, Hattie?" drawled Frank Blaisdell. Miss Flora leaned forward earnestly. "But, Hattie, we were just sayin', 'fore you came, that it couldn't be true; that it must mean some other Blaisdells somewhere."
He would first visit by turns all the Hillerton Blaisdells, he decided; then, when he had exhausted their resources, he would, of course, turn to the town records and cemeteries of Hillerton and the neighboring villages. Armed with a pencil and a very businesslike looking notebook, therefore, he started at two o'clock for the home of James Blaisdell. Remembering Mr.
By the middle of July the Blaisdells were all gone Hillerton and there remained only their letters for Miss Maggie and for Mr. Smith. Miss Maggie was very generous with her letters. Perceiving Mr. Smith's genuine interest, she read him extracts from almost every one that came. And the letters were always interesting and usually characteristic.
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