"She walks as well as she does everything else," said John.
"Have you ever heard her play the piano?" I asked, satirically.
"I have an idea that she doesn't play the piano," he replied, with perfect seriousness.
We were absurdly disappointed. Here we were in Colorado, and all we had got for our pains thus far was Pike's Peak. John swore he had never seen anything half so hideous, and I quite agreed with him.
As we came out from luncheon the bell-boy handed Brunt a note. John's face flushed up as he broke the seal.
"She invites us both to dinner in the name of her aunt, at half-past six this evening," he announced with a delighted grin.
"She's a trump," said I.
We went for a ride ourselves that afternoon, out onto the plains John said he wanted to get away from Pike's Peak. But when we turned to come back something had happened.
