“Do you think,” he asked in an undertone, “that this fellow is going to get her?”
“Oh, S. K.,” I answered, as I slipped my hand in his, “I know he is! And you do too! How can you help it?”
“Dear child!” said S. K. “My dear child!” He said it in that tight way in which people speak when they care very much, and he pressed my hand between both of his.
“What are you talking of over there?” asked Evelyn, looking up from her work. And I gave an answer which did not surprise her, for everyone did talk of them a great deal--if not exactly the sort S. K. and I had touched that day.
“We’re discussing mysteries,” said I.
“Right,” added S. K., looking down at me. And then Ito came in, trundling a tea-waggon ahead of him. I saw that he had Aunt Penelope’s best service on it, little cakes in paper cases, and big pink roses on the napkins. It looked pretty, festive and good.
“It is day of love,” said Ito. “We have fancy tea!”
THE END
NOVELS BY