When Briggs entered, a young girl met him in the hall. “Oh, here you are! I’ve been watching for you all the afternoon. Why didn’t you come home before, you naughty man?”
She put her arms on his shoulders, and he bent forward to be kissed. “I couldn’t,” Briggs explained; “I’ve been too busy.”
“Oh, Guy,” the girl cried, running to the broad staircase at the back of the hall, “Uncle Doug has come.” She turned swiftly to her uncle. “Oh, you should have seen us work this afternoon, Guy and me! We’ve been helping Mrs. Farnsworth with the flowers. I’ve decorated the dining-room all myself.” She seized Douglas Briggs by the arm and tried to drag him with her. “Come along and see.”
He drew his arm away gently. “I mustn’t now, Fanny. I’ll see it by-and-by. I ought to get ready for dinner. Where’s your aunt?”
“Aunt Helen’s in the drawing-room. She has a caller, I think.”
Briggs frowned. “Hasn’t she taken a rest?”
Fanny shook her head and looked serious. “I tried to make her, but she wouldn’t. She said there were too many things to do. But Guy and I were attending to everything,” she concluded, with importance.
Briggs turned away and smiled. “Children awake?” he asked, as he removed his coat.
“M’m—h’m. Been playing all the afternoon. Miss Munroe’s been a brick. As soon as she got Jack quiet she came down and helped Guy and me decorate the ballroom. Oh, we had the loveliest——”
Briggs had turned away absent-mindedly and started up the stairs. As he passed the door of the drawing-room he heard a rustle of skirts, and a sharp voice exclaimed: