KEELEY MOORE HAD A knack of putting his troubles away on a high shelf, while he relaxed, as he called it. And with him, this meant relaxation of mind as well as body, and he stretched himself in his porch chair, and demanded light chatter, with no hint or mention of the Pleasure Dome tragedy.
Lora, as usual, met him more than half way, and began a recital of the blunders made by her new parlor maid that morning.
“Nice looking little baggage,” said Kee, who had always an eye for a pretty face. “Where’d you pick her up?”
“I can’t tell you that,” said Lora, “it’s a secret.”
“A secret? Where you got a servant! Then, I can guess; you sneaked her away from some unsuspecting friend, and offered higher wages.”
“Nothing of the sort! Jennie came to me and asked me to take her.”
“Where has she
