“Here’s a go!” exclaimed Herbert slangily.
“No,” said Elsie, attempting to remove his arm, “it seems to be a stay!”
Herbert caught at the word instantly, even while his laugh echoed along the corridor. “A stay!” he echoed, tightening his grasp. “Elsie, darling——”
No one will know quite just how it happened, but drawn by an overmastering impulse, he drew the dark head to his breast and pressed a fervent kiss upon, I grieve to state, a pair of unresisting lips.
“For shame!” cried Elsie when she found breath. “A second William. Young man, go and reform some of your free-and-easy habits! You’re infinitely more cruel than he, because you know better. I am ashamed, indignant, heart-broken,” and Elsie burst into tears.
“My darling,” cried Herbert for the second time, as he prepared to do penance by repeating the crime of which he was accused, “you may be just as indignant as you choose so that indignation does not take you away from me. Here, take your kiss back again! I am perfectly willing to return the jewel I stole,” and grasping the flushed face in both hands, he held it in a vise-like grip while he bestowed upon the ripe lips the principal with usurious interest. There was no time for protest or further explanation. There was some one coming up the stairs, and it was a hurried assumption of composure that greeted Margaret and Gilbert as they reached their door.
“We have been waiting for you,” cried Herbert, adding audaciously, “It seemed to Miss Elsie, I’ve no doubt, as if you never would come.”
“Margaret, dear,” exclaimed Elsie, “how pale you are! What has happened?”
“Come in and I will tell you,” wearily answered Margaret as she unlocked the door.
“As it is late,” said Herbert hesitatingly, “with your permission I will leave my violin here and come for our music to-morrow evening. Good-night.”