"Go on! I won't offend again."
"There is not much to tell. Oh, I do wish Miss Twining could have heard him praise her poems—after he had read them! Do you know, Miss Nita, he hadn't even looked in the book! He thought it was trash—not worth his while! Think of it—those lovely poems! But I found the book for him—He didn't even remember where he'd put it!—and I told him to read it, and he did!"
"Polly! you mean you asked him!"
"I guess I told him all right—I was mad just about then. And he read steady, by the clock, 'most twenty-five minutes! I don't know as he'd have stopped by now if the telephone hadn't rung."
"And he liked them?"
"Oh, he thinks they're beautiful! He was awfully sorry he hadn't thanked her—I know he was! But he is going to write her a note, and I told him he could say 'thank you' to the next one, and he said he should."
Juanita Sterling disgraced herself the second time. She dropped back in her chair with a stifled laugh.
"Miss Nita!" began Polly plaintively.
"I know, dear! But to think of your saying such things to that dignified man!" She chuckled again.
"Don't, Miss Nita! It hurts. His dignity is all on the outside, I guess. Anyway, it went off before I left."