“It's beastly lonesome without you,” he whispered. “When are you coming home?”
“Heaven knows!” said Connie, putting her hands behind her for safe-keeping. “Now that somebody else has rented the College Street house, and Miss Lady has sold Thornwood, I don't know what's to become of us.”
“Don't you miss me a little bit?” asked Gerald, playing with the silver purse on her wrist.
“Of course I do, silly. Is my hat on straight? I wish I had a mirror.”
Noah kneeling on the floor, mopping up the ink, reached toward the desk, and then paused.
“I'll be your mirror!” said Gerald, presenting his eyes in a way that only a very near-sighted person could have taken advantage of.
“City Hall clock's striking four,” said Noah grimly.
But Noah's desire to have Connie to himself was not to be gratified. No sooner had Gerald gone, than Hattie arrived, very slim and angular, and carrying a prodigious stack of school-books.
“What was the sense of my meeting you here?” she demanded of Connie, wasting no time on amenities. “You've made me miss the four-two train, and come out of my way. What did you want with me?”
“I wanted to use your mileage book, dear,” said Connie sweetly. “How long do you suppose it will be, Mr. Wicker, before Mr. Gooch comes in?”