“Helped Mr. York!” ejaculated Sam. “I’d like to know how!”
“I don’t know that. Maybe, though, you took his mind off some worry, or cheered him up when he was feeling unhappy.”
“I guess he never needed cheering up,” said Sam. “But I see what you mean, sis. It doesn’t sound so bad that way. Well, I must get along. I asked Tom up to supper to-night. He and I are going to practise a little for to-morrow. If you’re going home early, I’ll wait around awhile for you.”
“I’m not, Sam, not very early to-day, thanks. I’ll try to get home by one, though. Tell mother not to wait for me. I’ve promised all this by twelve, and then I’ve got some letters to take for Mr. Hall.”
“Oh,” said Sam musingly, watching Nell deftly introduce a “carbon sandwich” into the carriage of the typewriter. “Mr. Hall.”
“Exactly,” replied Nell, spacing briskly.
“Hm. I wonder, now——”
“What?” she asked as he stopped.
“I wonder whether Mr. Hall likes me. He sort of seemed to.”
“Why shouldn’t he?” she asked cheerfully.