"
"Are you sure it will be all right?" urged Freckles. "Do you think if
Mr. McLean came he would care?"
"Na," said Mrs. Duncan; "I dinna. If ye and me agree that a thing ought
to be done, and I watch in your place, why, it's bound to be all right
with McLean. Let me pin the hat in a paper, and ye jump on your wheel
and gang flying. Ought ye put on your Sabbath-day clothes?"
Freckles shook his head. He knew what he should do, but there was no
use in taking time to try to explain it to Mrs. Duncan while he was so
hurried. He exchanged his wading-boots for shoes, gave her his club, and
went spinning toward town. He knew very well where the Angel lived.
He had seen her home many times, and he passed it again without even
raising his eyes from the street, steering straight for her father's
place of business.
Carrying the hat, Freckles passed a long line of clerks, and at the door
of the private office asked to see the proprietor. When he had waited
a moment, a tall, spare, keen-eyed man faced him, and in brisk, nervous
tones asked: "How can I serve you, sir?"
Freckles handed him the package and answered, "By delivering to your
daughter this hat, which she was after leaving at me place the other
day, when she went away in a hurry.
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