"Then we won't have any women," cried the Professor.
Kate smiled. "Oh, yes, you will! Jemima has read about chaperons in novels. She'll see to that."
"Wouldn't I be a sufficient chaperon?"
"You can't be a chaperon and a dancing man as well," she teased him. "Take your choice. Oh, I foresee a strenuous career ahead of you, my friend! Think of the invitations, and the decorations, and the favors, and the menu!"
"I had not thought of it in detail," admitted the Professor, rather nervously. "You—you alarm me. Still, I shall go through with it."
"You will indeed, with Jemima at the helm," she murmured. "You poor lamb! Perhaps the famous nephew will be of some assistance? I dare say he knows a good deal about balls, and things of that sort."
"Unfortunately, J. Percival is no longer my guest"—the Professor spoke a little stiffly. "At present he is visiting your neighbor Mr. Farwell, at Holiday Hill—an old acquaintance, I understand. You have seen nothing of him?"
She shook her head. "We do not know Mr. Farwell, and we are rather simple folk to appeal to the literary palate."
"Humph!" said the other dubiously. "I should not call Jemima, for instance, exactly a simple person. Look out for him, Kate!"
She raised her eyebrows. "You speak as if your famous nephew were a ravening wild wolf, Jim!"