"I'll manage it," and the young man fell to work, capably assisted by a maid, who showed him what to take first and how to insure its safe delivery.
On his way up, walking cautiously on account of the cups of smoking bouillon which he was concerned lest he spill, he encountered a rose-coloured brocade frock on its way down.
"Good for you, Mr. Kendrick," hailed Roberta's voice, full and sweet.
He paused, balancing his tray. "Why are you going down? Won't you let me bring up yours when I've given this to Unc—to Mr. and Mrs. Rufus Gray?"
"Are you enjoying your task so well? Look out, keep your eye on the tray! There's nothing so treacherous to carry as cups so full as those."
"Stop laughing at me and I'll get through all right. All I need is a little practice. Next time I come up I'm going to try balancing the whole thing on my hand and carrying it shoulder-high."
"Please practice that some time when you're all alone in your own house."
"I'll remember. And please remember I'm going to bring up your supper—and my own. May we have it in the place where we were after the dance?"
"Yes, with six others who are waiting there already. That will be lovely, thank you. I'll be back by the time you have everything up."
"Of all the hard creatures to corner," thought Richard, going on upward with his tray. "Anyhow, I can have the satisfaction of waiting on her, which is better than nothing."