"Oh, he's cool enough. He'll keep you cool."
"But he didn't——"
"Oh, don't—pray don't!" cried Mrs. Dennison.
Adela took her leave; and, as luck would have it, opened the door just as Tom Loring was walking downstairs with an enormous load of dusty papers in his hands. She pulled the door close behind her hastily, exclaiming,
"Why, I thought you'd gone!"
"So you've heard? I'm just putting things shipshape. I go this evening."
"Well, I'm sorry—still, for your sake, I'm glad."
"Why?"
"You may do something on your own account now."
"I don't want to do anything," said Tom obstinately.