March flung himself away, but Shotwell turned him again by a supplicating call and manly, repentant air. "Law, John, don't mind my plaay, old man; I'm just about as sick as you ah. Here! I'll tell you where she is, an' then I'll tell you what let's do! You go hunt Jeff-Jack an' I'll staay with heh till you fetch him!"
"That would be nice," cheerfully laughed John.
In the next room he came upon Fannie standing in a group of Rosemont and Montrose youths and damsels. They promptly drew away.
"John," she said, "I want to ask a favor of you, may I?"
"You can ask any favor in the world of me, Miss Fannie, except one."
"Why, what's that?" risked Fannie.
"The one you've just sent Shotwell to do." He smiled with playful gallantry, yet felt at once that he had said too much.
Fannie put on a gayety intended for their furtive observers, as she murmured, "Don't look so! A dozen people are watching you with their ears in their eyes." Then, in a fuller voice—"I want you to get Parson Tombs away from that crowd in yonder. He's excited and overtaxing his strength."
"Then may I come back and spend a few minutes—no more—with you—alone? This is the last chance I'll ever have, Miss Fannie—I—I simply must!"
"John, if you simply must, why, then, you simply—mustn't. You'll have the whole room trying to guess what you're saying."