“I didn’t know you didn’t like her.”
“You know I do like her,” returned Hugh roughly, “but you know I’ve been trying to get you to let her go for a week.”
“And if you will allow me,” said Ogden, with his most charming and cheery manner, “I will stay a few days and chaperon Hugh over the stairs a few times, enough to give you confidence—he seems to have it plus—”
Miss Frink gave her rare laugh. “That boy is a joke, Mr. Ogden. He spends his days counting my pennies, I do believe. He sees me bankrupt. All right, you stay and Miss Damon shall go.” And here the nurse and Adèle came into the room.
The latter stared greedily at the object of her curiosity. Flushed with his recent resentment, and robed in the small crimson jewels glinting against their lustrous black background, he sat there, and she devoured him with her eyes.
“Mr. Stanwood, this is—” began Miss Frink, when Hugh, pushing on the arms of his throne, sprang to his feet with a smile of amazement.
“Ally!” he exclaimed.
Miss Frink stared. Another strange name for her incubus. She was no more surprised than the object of Hugh’s laughing recognition. Mrs. Lumbard gazed at him for a delighted, puzzled space.
“I do believe you don’t know me. Why should you?” he cried. “This”—he grasped his robe—“is a little different from the canteen.”
“Hughie!” exclaimed Adèle, and hurried forward to take both his hands.