"Timmy, dear," she said, "I'm sorry—there! Will you forgive me, please?"
"Yes, I forgive you," replied Timothy, reassuming his air of possession at once. "But it must not occur again."
"All right," agreed Peggy meekly.
Then she looked at Timothy with a troubled expression.
"Tim," she said, "I want to talk to you like a mother. I have been thinking."
"And have you come to the conclusion that you don't love me!" exclaimed Timothy in a tragic voice. "I know: don't explain! That is a woman all over. A couple of hours—"
"I wasn't going to say anything of the kind, Tim," interposed Peggy quietly; "but I have been thinking." She fingered the buttons of Timothy's immaculate waistcoat. "I have been wondering if a man like you ought to marry at present. What lovely buttons!" She played a little tune on them to show her appreciation.
"Don't treat me like a child, please," said Timothy stiffly.
"At this moment," replied Peggy, "that is just the way I am not treating you."
"You think me too young, I know," insisted Tim.