"Oh, I knew you'd stick up for him! You like him."
"He's good! He's fine, and big! He's a man!—and a clean man."
"I meant Sue Milo." Mrs. Balcome interposed her bulk between them.
"She's not to blame!" defended Hattie. "On the contrary—she wouldn't let me decide quickly. We talked about it 'way into the night."
Balcome twitched a rose voile sleeve. "Don't mind her, Hattie," he counseled. "That's the kind of wild thing she says about me."
"Can you deny that Susan has influenced you?" persisted Mrs. Balcome. "Can you truthfully say—Oh!" For over the wall, and over the little white door, had come a large, gay-striped rubber ball. It Struck the grass, bounced, and came rolling to Mrs. Balcome's feet.
"Here she is!" whispered Balcome.
"Sneaking in!" accused his wife.
Now, the white door swung wide to the sound of motor chugging, and a hop came trundling across the lawn. Next, Sue appeared, backing, for her arms were full of bundles. She dropped one or two as she came. "Oh, there you go again!" she laughed. "Oh, butter-fingers!"
"Goo-oo-ood-morning!" began Mrs. Balcome, portentously.