"Well, will you call it an equivalent to one week's subscription?" she asked very gravely.
Some long-sleeping devil of mischief awoke in Stanton's senses.
"Equivalent to one whole week's subscription?" he repeated with mock incredulity. "A whole week—seven days and nights? Oh, no! No! No! I don't think you've given me, yet, more than about—four days' worth to think about. Just about four days' worth, I should think."
Pushing the pink veil further and further back from her features, with plainly quivering hands, the girl's whole soul seemed to blaze out at him suddenly, and then wince back again. Then just as quickly a droll little gleam of malice glinted in her eyes.
"Oh, all right then," she smiled. "If you really think I've given you only four days' and nights' worth of thoughts—here's something for the fifth day and night."
Very casually, yet still very accurately, her right hand reached out to the knob of the door.
"To cancel my debt for the fifth day," she said, "do you really 'honest-injun' want to know who I am? I'll tell you! First, you've seen me before."
"What?" cried Stanton, plunging forward in his chair.
Something in the girl's quick clutch of the door-knob warned him quite distinctly to relax again into his cushions.
"Yes," she repeated triumphantly. "And you've talked with me too, as often as twice! And moreover you've danced with me!"