“It was a compact between us—if she were summoned, in a moment, without time for a good-bye. We were close friends.”
“Kelvin—excuse me—you are getting to be impossible.”
“All right. Look at your watch. Time was made for unbelievers. There’s no convincing a sceptic but by foot-rule. Look at your watch.”
“I did, I confess—covertly—in the instant of distraction caused by Kelvin’s little son, who came to bid his father good night. He was a quiet, winning little fellow, glowing with health and beauty.
“Good night, Bobo,” said Kelvin, kissing the child fondly. “Ask God to make little Patsy’s bed comfy, before you get into your own.”
I kissed the boy also; but awkwardly, for some reason, under his frank courteousness. After he was gone, I sank back in my chair and said, grudging the concession—
“Very well. It’s half-past eight.”
Kelvin nodded, and said nothing more for a long time. Then, all of a sudden, he broke out—
“I usen’t to believe in such things myself, once upon a time; but Bobo converted me. Would you like to hear the story?”
“O, yes!” I said, tolerantly superior. “Fire away!”