"You didn't telegraph grandma that you were coming, or she might have made other arrangements," the young woman retorted, with a little laugh.
"And if you are going to Tuxedo to-night," he continued, paying no heed to this ironic suggestion, "then you won't be at home this afternoon?"
"No," she answered; "we shall be back just in time to dress and get away to the train. Grandma has two or three errands to do first—she's inside there arranging about some silver things she wants to take over with us."
"But I must see you to-day," he pleaded.
"Aren't you seeing me now?" she returned, as the blush rose again and fell.
"But I've got something I want to say to you!" he urged.
"Won't it keep till Monday afternoon?" she asked, with another light laugh; but beneath the levity there was more than a hint of feeling.
"No," he declared; "it won't keep an hour longer, for it's been kept too many years already. I've come here on purpose to tell you something—and I must do it to-day!"