“Why, I believe I’ve smitten Mr. McCrae,” Clara said, with a laugh. “I doubt I could smite you, though, Mr. Call—not unless I had a club.” With no more said, she turned and began to unpack a large box of dry goods. Call turned and left, a little puzzled by the shop girl’s remark. Why would she want to smite him with a club? She seemed a friendly girl, though the meaning of her remark was hard to puzzle out.
