"Then what is it?"
"I don't know. It's—something. It made me think company right away." The bar of music from the gong came floating up from below. "There's breakfast!" he exclaimed. "Are you 'most ready?"
"Quite," replied she, with a last look at profile, back hair and back of skirt with the aid of a hand glass.
"Maybe there'll be company," said Winchie as they started.
"I'm sure there'll be corn muffins," said she. "I smell them."
"If there's hash, may I have a little?"
"A little."
The descent was slow as Winchie's legs were short. She listened at every step, but could hear no sound of the kind she hoped. At the sitting-room door she glanced round. He was not there. "He's in the dining room," she said half to herself.
"Who, mamma?"
Courtney startled, flushed. "What is it, dear?" she stammered guiltily.