Replied the Story Man with grave eyes: "I shall do my best. We are a good deal at the mercy of our heroines. But I will do all that I can to win mine over, dear lady. Heaven knows I want to!"
"Then you are on my side now; you have changed your mind!" she cried tauntingly. "Woman, thy name is not Fickleness, it is thy husband's name! Well, I am glad it is going to be my kind of a story. How did I know but it was to be a historical novel or a problem story—ugh! And, instead, you're going to make love to your heroine in the dear old thrilly way."
He stirred in his seat, and his eyes sought his hostess. But Miss Theodosia's eyes were cheerfully following the infinitesimal stitches with which she was rimming an infinitesimal round hole in the bit of linen in her hand.
"How far have you got?" she questioned over a new stitch.
"Not very far," sadly; "I think I am a little afraid of my heroine."
"Mercy gracious! Well, I think I'd take her by the ear and march her round to suit myself! If I wanted her to say 'yes'—do you want her to say 'yes'?"
Did he want her to say yes!
"I'm trying to lead her up to it," he said gently. Miss Theodosia bit off her thread.
"March her up to it, march her! You're too gentle with her. What is the use of being a Story Man? Might as well be a plumber like Evangeline!"
It was at this moment that Evangeline appeared on the little Flagg horizon. They saw her coming their way, loaded as usual with Elly Precious. The sag of her wiry little figure on the Elly Precious side appealed strongly to Miss Theodosia. She dropped her foolish bit of linen and hurried to meet that little sag. When she came back with Elly Precious in her own arms, the Story Man was wandering away. He waved his hat to them smilingly.