“I believe it is Fred!” Elsie exclaimed. “I believe you’ve got him after all. Does he say——”
“You better hurry!” the young man said to the mouthpiece as he dropped the receiver into its hook. Then, as he turned toward the door, he seemed to become conscious, though vaguely, that he was not alone. “Much ’bliged, Elsie,” he said. “Goo’bye!”
“Wait. Wait just a minute, Paul.”
“What for?”
“Fred isn’t on his way yet, I don’t suppose,” she said, timidly. “Let’s—let’s wait in Papa’s library till he comes. There are some pretty interesting books in there I’d like to show you. Papa’s great on bindings and old editions. Wouldn’t you like to see some of ’em?”
“Well, another day maybe,” he answered, obviously surprised. “You see Mamie Ford and all the girls are out there, and I——”
“Wait,” she begged, for he was in motion to depart. “Aren’t you ever coming to see me again, Paul?”
“What?” He appeared to have no comprehension of her meaning.
“Aren’t you ever coming to see me again?” She laughed lightly, yet there was a tremor in her voice. “I don’t believe you’ve been in our house for over two years, Paul.”
“Oh, yes, I have,” he returned. “I must have been here a whole lot in that much time. G’bye, Elsie; the girls are——”