“I’d rather not,” said Gladwin ponderously, trying to escape from the appealing eyes.
“But really you ought to, old chap,” reproved Barnes. “It’s your duty to.”
“Oh, yes, please do!” implored Sadie.
The victim was caught three ways. Both young ladies regarded him earnestly and with looks that hung upon his words, while Barnes stood to one side with a solemn long face, elbow in one hand and chin gripped tightly in the other, manifestly for the moment withdrawn from rescue duty. There was nothing for the badgered young man to do but mentally roll up his sleeves and plunge in.
“Well, then,” with exaggerated sobriety, “if you must know––I think––that is, when I was thinking of it––or I mean, what I had thought of it, when I 88 was thinking of it––turning it over in my mind, you know––why, it didn’t seem to me––I am afraid”––turning squarely on Helen––“what I am going to say will offend you.”
“On the contrary,” cried Helen, flushing to her tiny pink ears, “if you are Travers’s best friend, I should like to know just what you think of it.”
“Well, then,” said Travers Gladwin desperately, “if you must know the truth, I don’t like it.”
“There!” breathed Sadie, overjoyed, and dropped back in her chair.
But Helen Burton was far from pleased.
“You don’t like what?” she demanded.