“That must be why I’m so unhappy now. I’ve got to stay in this coat for an entire evening. Pity me, Mrs. Hodder! And don’t wait up, please. I may be rather late.”
He marched away, followed by the adoring gaze of his housekeeper. Mrs. Hodder’s austerity of countenance belied her softness of heart. If the minister had guessed how like a mother she felt toward him he might have been both touched and alarmed.
Arrived at the Lockharts’, he found himself welcomed first by Tom, who met him, as if accidentally, at the very door.
“The heavy-weights are all here,” announced the boy under his breath, his arm linked in Black’s, as he led his friend upstairs. “Bald—half of ’em are bald! And the rest look as solemn as if this were a funeral instead of a dinner. Maybe they feel that way. I’m sure I do. I say—don’t you wish we could jump into my car and burn it down the road about fifty miles into the moonlight? There’s a gorgeous moon to-night.”
“Ask me after the dinner is over, and I’ll go.”
“What? Will you? You won’t—no such luck!”
“Try me and see.”
“You bet I will. See here—you promise? It’ll be late, I warn you. Father’s dinners drag on till kingdom come.”
“Any time before morning.” And Black looked into the laughing, incredulous eyes of the youth before him.
“You’re no minister,” Tom chuckled. “You’re a dead game sport.” Then he drew back suddenly at the flash in the black eyes.