“So sorry to bother you, Miss Ainsworth,” she began apologetically, “but I want to ask a favor. Father is moving back with us to-day, and—”
“What!”
“Yes, indeed he is,” she cried blithely. “I was so lonesome, and some days I am so ill, that I asked him as a personal favor if he wouldn’t come and try me just once more, and he said, Holy Mackinaw! he had been aching to do that very thing.”
“Well,” Eveley said judiciously, “I suppose you will all be satisfied now that you are back in your old rut wretchedly doing your duty by each other.”
“I should say not,” denied Mrs. Severs promptly. “I asked father to come because I—like him awfully much, and it is so lonely without him, and he is coming because he missed us and is fond of us, and there isn’t any duty about it. You have converted us. We do not believe in duty.”
“And the favor?”
“Yes—father is bringing the flivver of course—and the garage is so big. Do you mind if we keep it there with your car? We will pay any extra rent, of course.”
“Keep it there by all means,” said Eveley generously. “And there is no rent. And when I get stuck anywhere I shall expect you to tow me home for love.” And when Mrs. Severs had gone, Eveley said: “Make another pot of tea, please, Marie. Make two pots—three if you like.”
“Pretty hard to keep some people properly adjusted, isn’t it?” asked Nolan soberly, but with laughter in his eyes.
“What is proved by the case of Father-in-law and the Bride, Eveley?” asked Marie with a soft teasing smile as she refilled Eveley’s cup.