Step by step, item by item, each detail of events reprinted itself on my mind. Fumbling back from the shadowy telephone- stand into the brightly lighted upper hall with the single desire to find my Husband and confide to him as expeditiously as possible this news which had so amazed me, I had stumbled instead upon the May Girl herself, climbing somewhat listlessly up the stairs toward bed, Rollins was close behind her carrying her book and a filmy sky-blue scarf. George Keets followed with a pitcher of water.
"Oh, it isn't Good Night, dear, is it?" I questioned.
"Yes," said the May Girl. "I'm—pretty tired." She certainly looked it.
Rollins quite evidently was in despair. He was not to accomplish his 'kiss' after all, it would seem. All the long day, I judged, he had been whipping up his cheeky courage to meet some magic opportunity of the evening. And now, it appeared, there wasn't going to be any evening! Even the last precious moment indeed was to be ruined by George Keets's perfidious intrusion!
It was the Bride's voice though that rang down the actual curtain on Rollins's "Perfect Day."
"Oh, Miss Davies!—Miss Davies!" called the Bride. "You mustn't forget to return your ring, you know!"
"Why, no, so I mustn't," rallied the May Girl.
Twice I heard Rollins swallow very hard. Any antique was sacred to him, but a family antique. Oh, ye gods!
"K—K—Keep the ring!" stammered Rollins. It was the nearest point to real heroism surely that funny little Rollins would ever attain.
"Oh, no, indeed," protested the May Girl. Very definitely she snapped the silken threads, removed the clumsy bauble from her finger, and handed it back to Rollins. "But—but it's a beautiful ring!" she hastened chivalrously to assure him. "I'll—I'll keep the orchids!" she assented with real dimples.