"It's to the boy," began the widow, "who—who——"
"Took the roundabout way?" finished the bachelor, helpfully.
The widow nodded.
"I have written him," she explained, "that he mustn't—that it would be best if he wouldn't come here any more. That will keep him in his place, I think."
"On his knees?" inquired the bachelor sarcastically.
"And I told him," proceeded the widow, with a reproachful glance at the bachelor, "how very rude and foolish——"
"Did you explain," interrupted the bachelor, "that the foolishness consisted in not taking the kiss?"
"And that the rudeness lay entirely in assuming that you might not want to be——"
"How dare you!" cried the widow, flaming as red as the scarlet satin sofa pillow behind her head. "I gave him a dreadful scolding!" she added, looking pensively at the sealed note and toying with the edge of the flap, as though she half wished it would come open again.