“You’re about as cheerful as an open grave—takes all the heart out of me just to look at your face. Speak up, Little Sunbeam, and tell Papa what you got on your chest?”
Mrs. Toomey laid down the powder puff.
“What if there should be some slip-up, Jap? We’re letting ourselves in for a dreadful disappointment if we count on it too much.”
He shook off her hands from his shoulders with an exasperated twitch.
“You’re the original Death’s Head, Dell! Don’t you suppose I know what I’m talking about? It’ll go through,” confidently. “What’s made you think it won’t?”
Mrs. Toomey hesitated, then timidly:
“I can’t get it out of my head, Jap, but that he’s related to Kate, and if that should happen to be so—”
“Good Lord! So you’ve dug that up to worry about? Look here—if he’d had any interest in her he’d have knocked me cold the first day he arrived.”
“What do you mean?” Mrs. Toomey asked quickly.
“Just that. Her name happened to come up, and I didn’t mince my words in telling him about her past.”