“Shucks! Have you asked her if there’s a room ready for you?”
“Indeed I haven’t! I wouldn’t think of imposing on a busy hostess.”
“I might say something about it,” he suggested slyly.
“You will do nothing of the kind.”
“Oh, I don’t know! I’m going home myself day after to-morrow.”
Hastily Elliott set down the kettle she had lifted. “Are you? That’s nice. I mean, we shall miss you, but of course you have to go some time, I suppose.”
“It won’t be any trouble at all to speak to Mother.”
“Stannard,” and the color burned in her cheeks, “will you please stop fiddling around this kitchen? It makes me nervous to see you. I nearly burned myself in the steam of that kettle and I’m liable to drop something on you any time.”
“Oh, all right! I’ll get out. Fiddling is a new verb with you, isn’t it?”