"Beg pardon?"
"BUTTER. We've no butter."
"Oh, certainly!" He was gone in a second, and in another the butter was served, and Susan and Billy began on the rolls.
"Here comes Miss---, your friend," said William presently.
Susan whirled. Miss Saunders and the very young man were looking toward their table, as they went out. Catching Susan's eye, they came over to shake hands.
"How do you do, Miss Brown?" said the young woman easily. "My cousin, Mr. Brice. He's nicer than he looks. Mr. Oliver? Were you at the Columbia?"
"We were--How do you do? No, we weren't at the Columbia," Susan stammered, confused by the other's languid ease of manner, by the memory of the playhouse they had attended, and by the arrival of the sardines and ginger-ale, which were just now placed on the table.
"I'm coming to take you to lunch with me some day, remember," said Miss Saunders, departing. And she smiled another farewell from the door.
"Isn't she sweet?" said Susan.
"And how well she would come along just as our rich and expensive order is served!" Billy added, and they both laughed.