"Um!" grunted the frump, compressing her lips and looking at my darling. "There's one good thing: the experience with Mr. Smith will teach Francis a lesson!"
The cat! Nice sort of host!
But the dear girl just laughed—how I remembered that laugh!
"Poor Francis!" she said lightly. "Do you know," she added, "I believe I can forgive a Harvard man almost anything, Mr. Lightnut."
By Jove! The angel! And before I knew what I was doing or thought about the frump, I had stretched out a hand to her, looking her straight in the eye and smiling. She hesitated an instant only, then laughed, and I felt her little fingers just brush my palm—but it was enough.
She flushed a little shyly and addressed the frump.
"Are we going to keep Mr. Lightnut standing like this all day?" she asked.
"Half on earth and half in heaven—like what's-his-name's coffin," I suggested. Devilish good, that, don't you think? She thought so, for she opened the door herself as the frump turned, murmuring some silly thing about China and the open door to America. What did China have to do with it?
And it was just then that Jenkins bolted wildly from the building.
"Mr. Lightnut—quick, sir! Mr. Billings, sir!"