Professor Hodgson, frowning, nodded courteously. "Perhaps Mr. Moore would like to go, if he cares to stag it. I'm afraid every girl in town has been invited by now."
"Stag what?" queried Peter in a dry voice.
"There's to be a St. Valentine's ball to-night," enthused the girl. "St. Valentine's Day is the fourteenth, you know. I'm sure you'd enjoy it! You'll go, won't you?"
"But—but——" stammered Peter. "I had hoped that you and I could spend the evening by ourselves."
"Oh, but I couldn't do that!" cried Eileen, with reproach in her big, gray eyes. "Professor Hodgson invited me ages ago! Can't we talk this afternoon and to-morrow. I'll cut classes all day. Please go! I'll give you every other dance! The professor won't mind. He's an old dear!"
The old dear frowned a shade more darkly, and Peter derived some encouragement from the sign.
"I'll go on that condition," said Peter gaily. "Every other dance with Miss Lorimer!"
"That's fine!" Professor Hodgson rejoined. "Have you a costume?"
"Your wireless uniform!" cried Eileen. "You look wonderful in that!"
Professor Hodgson was preparing to remove his dour look from their vicinity. "I'll be around at eight," he said. "See you later, Mr. Moore."